


The Song remains the Same

by Gardngoyle



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22247806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gardngoyle/pseuds/Gardngoyle
Summary: The machine sends Reese to protect a number in Vermont. But Kate Halifax is not what he is expecting.
Relationships: John Reese/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you are new to the fandom STOP.  
> This novella has three parts.  
> Part one is basically a stand alone ‘episode’ that happens around the time of the end of Season Two – no spoilers there.  
> There is a brief ‘Intermission’ Chapter that connects the two parts and then Part Two has major spoilers for Season Three Episodes 9 and 10 and I take liberties with the timeline here. Please wait until you've watched Season 3 Episode 13 - "4C" before you read this fic.  
> You will enjoy both the show and (I desperately hope) my story if you do it this way.

**Part 1**

_kate_

Kate had a gin and tonic in mind as she left the circle of warmth near the woodstove. She grabbed a rocks glass from the cabinet on the way through to the spacious kitchen. Professional grade appliances in stainless steel finish shone against the warm wood cabinets and plank floor. An island with a butcher block top dominated the room and provided a comfortable work space. The space between the island and the door was home to a comfortable little dining table, but she preferred the bar stool next to the island. Kate spent hours in here, cooking and writing. Her blog, “Merle Mountain Menus” had a small but devoted following of people interested in her articles on food history and recipes scaled for one or two.  
Kate set the rocks glass down on the counter and moved a small pot from the fridge to the stove top. She had made the batch of beef bourguignon yesterday, taking pictures and writing notes for the blog as she worked. This was one of those wonderful meals that was always better the next day. She set the burner as low as she could and went to change her clothes.  
  
Kate sang along to the music that filled the house. “ _Wait for me, you know I love you, darling,_ ” her voice blended pleasantly with Susan Tedeschi’s sultry tones. In the combination bathroom – dressing room Kate rummaged through the closet and found a long sky-blue peasant skirt and a lavender chenille sweater slightly worn at the cuffs. A blue pair of fuzzy socks completed the outfit. She had skirts and tops nice enough to wear in public and some that she just wore at home, but there was little difference in style between the two. It would have been just as easy, maybe more so, to resort to sweats. She certainly wasn’t expecting Prince Charming to show up and sweep her off her feet, but Kate liked to feel pretty. Now she was ready to relax, have some dinner, maybe watch a movie on the laptop and doze by the woodstove. Kate absently twisted her hair into a braid as she headed back to the kitchen.  
  
First Kate checked the stew, stirring it so it wouldn’t stick, then pulled a box of cling wrap from a drawer. Four perfect blueberry muffins sat on a cooling rack, ready to be wrapped for breakfast for the next few days. She had thought it would be easy to cut a muffin recipe down to a batch manageable for one person, but it had taken her more batches than she cared to admit getting them just right. The final product looked and smelled wonderful. Kate had dutifully taken pictures and notes of this process as well. The muffins were part of a series and she had recorded all - or most - of her failures, so tomorrow’s post would be triumphant. As she arranged the muffins in their basket, Kate hummed along to Billie Holiday crooning I’ll Be Seeing You and swayed gently to the music.  
  
Out the window, the motion sensitive light on the front of the house caught her attention as it flashed to life. Probably some animal wandering the yard, she thought. Peering out the kitchen window, Kate could see a soft snow coming down in big, fluffy, late-March flakes. A “sugar snow” as they called it here in Vermont. She was glad she didn’t have anywhere she needed to go because the roads would be slippery tonight.  
  
The thought had barely crossed her mind when she saw headlights coming around the curve. Too fast. The black sedan swerved towards the trees, then across the centerline and crashed into the fence in front of her house. _Drunk or stupid?_ Kate wondered as she grabbed her jacket from the hook by the side door and stepped into her snow boots. She made her way down the path towards the car, stepping on the ends of laces she hadn’t bothered to tie and dragging the hem of her skirt in the snow. Kate was a little nervous as she opened the driver’s door. The man inside turned towards her. Blood dripped down the left side of his face from a cut on his forehead and he blinked at her in the bright light coming from the house. He shook his head, and focused his gaze, “Kathryn Halifax?” he said, obviously worried. When she nodded at him he asked, “Are you all right?”  
  
 _Option three: Crazy._  
  
Kate took a small step backwards. Her discomfort was growing, but she didn’t want him to know that. “Strange question for a guy who’s bleeding on my front lawn,” she said boldly.  
  
“I need you to get back in the house, you’re in danger.” His voice was deep and gravelly.  
  
“Who the hell are you? And how do you know my name? And who wants to hurt me?”  
  
The man got out of the car. He was tall – very tall, more than a little handsome and more than a little intimidating. He was wearing a suit, no tie, an overcoat, and a compelling look of concern mixed with determination. As was Kate’s habit she connected lyrics with the situation. Imelda May sang in her ears, “ _The man is tall, bad, mean and good-looking, and he’s got me in his eyes._ ” He was also a complete stranger, despite the fact that he somehow knew her name, and she wasn’t just going to let him in the house. “I’m going in to call an ambulance,” she said, “and you are going to wait right here.” There was quite a bit of blood on his face. She backed toward the door wondering how fast he could negotiate the slippery snow in dress shoes.  
  
“Miss Halifax. Listen. I promise to explain. But we don’t have a lot of time.” He paused, and started to unbutton his shirt. Kate took another two steps back. “Wait,” the man said, “Look.” He opened his shirt and she saw that he was wearing some sort of bullet proof vest. He showed her the spot, just to the left of his belly button, where a bullet had torn into it.  
  
“You were shot?” Kate stepped toward him this time.  
  
“You should see the other guy,” he half smiled and half shrugged as he put his hand over the broken spot on the vest, “I don’t think the bullet broke the skin, but it left one hell of a bruise – and I’m guessing I have a concussion. The guy that did this might have friends. So let’s go inside where we are a little safer.“  
  
“How’d that happen?” Kate gestured towards the cut on his head.  
  
“Short version? Guy hit me in the head with a rock.” He rolled his shoulders, ”Very unsportsmanlike.”  
  
Kate just stood there in the snow trying to make sense out of what he was saying and failing. This was ridiculous – wasn’t it? But if this was a joke or a scam it was fairly intricate. It was just as likely, perhaps more so, that Kate’s past had finally caught up with her. She had just begun to feel that she was clear of it. But the appearance of this mysterious man suggested otherwise. Kate had always assumed it would be the police in the dooryard not – whatever this was. Whose side was he on? And how had he found her?  
  
“Hang on, Harold, she’s trying to decide if she can trust me,” the man’s gravelly voice cut into her thoughts.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m on the phone,” He turned his head to show her his earpiece, “with the man that sent me here to help you. “ He touched the cut on his head, “Look, Miss Halifax, I’m reasonably sure that you can’t carry me into the house if I pass out.” His eyes were stormy blue. Like looking into a well - deep and possibly dangerous.  
  
“Fine.” She couldn’t say why, something in those eyes perhaps, but she felt that she could trust him. There was no reason she should. He was certainly dangerous, but she was somehow certain he was not a danger to her. And if she really had been found by the past, she was going to need his help. “Come on,” Kate slipped under his right arm and steadied him up the steps, a move that was probably unnecessary and hardly helpful, considering that he was so much taller than her. She realized to her own embarrassment that she had just wanted to get close to him. _Jeez, Kate, are we in high school again?_ She felt silly and let him go.

“What’s your name?” Kate asked as she hung up his coat and pulled her feet out of her boots into a puddle of melted snow. _Good, now I need another pair of socks._  
  
“I’m John.”  
  
 _Of course you are - and your last name is Doe._ She frowned and pointed him in the direction of the main room while she pulled off her own coat. Kate noticed the abandoned rocks glass on the counter as she passed through the kitchen and grabbed a clean dishcloth from the drawer. _I’m really going to need that drink._ Kate thought as she turned off the pot on the stove before dampening the cloth a bit and bringing it into the main room.  
  
‘John’ was standing with his back to her and one hand on the back of her chair. Although the room was spacious, with a cathedral ceiling and a loft, this mysterious stranger somehow seemed too big for the space. Her space. He was looking around with a practiced eye. _What can he see about me by just looking around?_


	2. Chapter 2

_john_  
  
What John saw was a remodeled barn. The main room was large with a high ceiling that showed off the rafters and a sleeping loft. An archway with a hanging barn door separated this space from the kitchen. The south wall was a bank of windows covered with curtains at this hour - to keep in the heat and hold out the dark. Directly across from the kitchen a wood stove on a slate hearth warmed the room. In the corner a wrought iron spiral staircase provided access to the sleeping space. Under the loft there was an office area occupied by a small kitchen table in use as a desk and a bulletin board covered with a chaotic montage of recipes, pictures of food, and lists of ingredients.  
  
A daybed occupied the space between the woodstove and the windows. The rest of the room seemed full of furniture yet oddly empty at the same time. The remaining wall space was lined with bookshelves and glass fronted cabinets, displaying books, dishes, and barware as well as river rocks, feathers, dried flowers, and various other ephemera. There were no photographs in the room at all. Soothing music filled the room. As John sought an appropriate place to sit, he realized what was so odd. There was only one place to sit. One oversized, overstuffed armchair dominated the middle of the room. A quiet monument to solitude. A little side table and a floor lamp made the spot functional. There was an empty teacup and a small crumb-strewn plate on the table, the cardboard tab on the tea bag was sky blue and said “Lady Grey.” He could plainly see that the chair was aligned ‘just so.’ The occupant of the chair could enjoy the woodstove and the view out the windows. It was a cozy place. For one.  
  
“You can sit right there,” Kate said quietly.  
  
“Thank you,” John moved aside a lavender-colored blanket and sat. The chair was comfortable, almost big enough for two people. He was grateful to sit in this warm room and try to let his head clear. John wasn’t going to be much help to this woman if he lost consciousness. Kate started to touch the damp cloth to his face then hesitated and handed it to him instead. He took the cloth, wiped his face with it, then pressed it to the cut to stop the bleeding. Kate stood awkwardly in the space between the chair and the desk, at a loss as to where to sit. _Likes company about as much as I do,_ he thought.  
  
“Are you all right?” Kate asked.  
  
“Fine. Thanks,” John tried to smile.  
  
“I’m going out to move your car off the road. I don’t want the plow to hit it or anyone to see it. Try not to bleed everywhere.”  
  
Before he could protest or offer to move the car himself, she was gone, with her skirt swishing around her bare legs.  
  
“Mr. Reese. You’re bleeding?” Finch asked in his ear, “Are you all right?”  
  
“I’m fine, Finch, head wounds bleed more than you’d think. I didn’t expect the guy I met in town to be here already. Thought I’d be able to watch our Number for a couple days before making contact.” The drive to Vermont had been grueling. Traffic and weather had worked against him. And when he’d finally reached Shelbyville, John ended up confronting the guy he was supposed to be heading off. He had just managed to get the cut to stop bleeding when Kate returned carrying the black duffle he kept in the backseat. She set the bag down on the foot of the daybed and turned to hand him his keys. John watched her carefully.  
  
“I assume that bag has clothes in it and you are obviously going to need a clean shirt,” she said, “I didn’t want to go back out for it so I grabbed it.”  
  
“You didn’t,” John twisted his neck and the tendons popped, “open the trunk?”  
  
“No. I wasn’t snooping.” She was defensive, “Besides, when a mysterious stranger shows up with a hole in his bulletproof vest, who knows what he might be carrying in the trunk of his car. Guns, grenades, bodies.”  
  
“No, no bodies.” John shook his head, “I’m sorry about the fence.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it. I hated that fence. One of the neighbors who helped me move in put it up as more of a joke than anything. I wish I’d thought of hitting it with the truck.” She reached out and tugged the dishcloth away from his face without touching his hand. “That looks better anyway. Can I get you something? Food? Painkillers?” she paused, “Scotch?” John looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Scotch, then.” Kate turned to one of the cabinets and produced two glasses and a bottle of single malt. “Glenfiddich.” She poured two fingers into each glass. “Rocks?”  
  
John nodded. This time his smile was less forced. Kate hooked the bloodstained cloth on her little finger so she could carry both glasses. “Me too,” she said as she disappeared into the kitchen. John was sympathetic as her watched her go. He understood that he was an unwanted distraction. Ten minutes ago life had been normal. Now? She was probably furious. He would be.  
  
“Mr. Reese?” Finch’s voice broke his train of thought. “We are going to need more information from Miss Halifax. I have seen you be charming. I know it’s not a favored state of being, but let’s try it.”  
  
“Ok, Finch, I’ll try,” John replied sardonically “but our Number is a very private person and she’d just as soon leave me out in the snow with a concussion.”  
  
“A perfectly reasonable option,” Shaw cut in. John could hear the smile in her voice. He would have been annoyed if he thought for a second she meant it. Shaw was definitely working out as part of the team. She was like a little sister - a violent, impatient, emasculating, fearlessly dependable little sister.  
  
“Always good to know you have my back, Shaw.”  
  
Kate returned from the kitchen, barefoot. She pressed a button on the sound system that occupied the top of the bookcase next to her desk and Nina Simone’s voice died away. Kate handed John a glass and pulled the desk chair over to where he sat so she could face him. She was quite pretty. Her long, black, softly curled hair was pulled back in a braid. Escaping tendrils brushed against her cheeks. A fine mist of freckles crossed her nose and her deeply green eyes snapped with what was hopefully only irritation. She seemed to take courage from a swig of Scotch and demanded, “Talk to me. Start with your name.”  
  
“John. John Casey.”  
  
“I don’t believe you.” she said quickly.  
  
John was taken aback. “I’m sorry?”  
  
“If you are going to lie to me about your name, why should I believe anything else you have to say?”  
  
“Because I just saved your life.”  
  
Kate replied with a sardonic smile, “So it is an alias. And the way I see it is that I didn’t let you pass out and freeze to death in my front yard. Let’s try again. What is your name?”  
  
John’s head was pounding and he was losing his patience. He leaned forward and looked her squarely in the face. “John is my name. And I didn’t get this hole in my vest by accident. You are, in fact, in danger. Who I am isn’t important. What I need to know now is why anyone would want to hurt you. So I can stop them.”  
  
“Well, that was charming.” Shaw said into his ear.  
  
Kate stared at him in silence. She wasn’t smiling anymore. She looked, instead, like a deer about to bolt. John regretted his tone, but he wasn’t sure how to fix it. Something about Kate disturbed him. She was certainly a very capable and independent person – she wouldn’t live out here by herself if she wasn’t - but there was something fragile about her as well. It was a distraction, and he didn’t like it.  
  
Kate squinted a little at him, “You don’t know who I am.” John was unnerved by the oddity of the statement.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“You don’t do you?” She thought for a moment, “How can you possibly know I’m in danger, but not know who I am?” Kate seemed to take comfort in the question and her whole demeanor changed. She was back on solid footing now and John found himself confused.  
  
“It’s complicated. We don’t know as much about you as we would like. We know you grew up in Boston. Kathryn Elizabeth Halifax, born in 1977. You attended Columbia, became an English teacher in Connecticut and then gave that up to get a degree in Culinary Arts at the New England Culinary Institute in Montpelier, Vermont. Now you live here – alone on a mountain - and write a food blog about cooking for one person. You do volunteer work for the local library. What we can’t figure out is why someone would want to kill you.”  
  
Kate took a sip from her glass. “We. You and the guy on the phone.”  
  
“Yes and a few other...associates.”  
  
“Are they listening now?” Kate held his gaze.  
  
John hesitated. The conversation wasn’t going the way it was supposed to. Kate was strangely calm. He was sure she knew who was after her - and why. Typically, Numbers in that category were more than willing to let him help. Kate wasn’t typical. “Yes, they are.”  
  
“Where are they? I mean are they down the road or in town?”  
  
“New York City.”  
  
“You came here from New York? To help me?”  
  
“Those were my instructions. That’s all I can tell you. My associates will stay in touch and help me keep you safe.”  
  
“Somebody with a computer is going to dig around in my life while you sit here, pretending to be charming, until you think you know me?” Kate frowned, “So you have me at a complete disadvantage?”  
  
“Something tells me that you have me at the disadvantage,” John replied. She smiled but it was more to herself than at him. Her eyes sparkled. He was at a disadvantage all right. Now was not the time to be rattled by pretty green eyes.  
  
“Everything you just said about me came right off my blog’s home page.”  
  
“Yes,” John was reluctant to admit it.  
  
“Some of it’s even true.” She paused, and looked at him as though weighing her options, “I’ll make a deal with you.”  
  
“A deal?” John raised one eyebrow and took another swig of his drink.  
  
Kate took a breath, like she was about to dive underwater. “I’ll tell you my name if you tell me y—“  
  
“John Reese.”  
  
John heard Shaw laugh at how quickly he’d caved to her and Finch’s voice admonished him, “Mr. Reese do you think that was wise?”  
  
“It depends on his objective,” Shaw sniggered.  
  
John turned away and raised a hand so Kate would realize he was on the phone and so she couldn’t see that she had disarmed him for a moment. “Do you want to know what’s going on here or do you want to let her fend for herself?” he snapped, now losing his patience with both Shaw and Finch.  
  
“Margaret Kathryn Pierce. My maiden name was Kibbee,” Kate spoke quietly, as though she were speaking of the dead. “But please just call me Kate.” He waited. She would provide him with more detail or Finch would. Kate took a breath, “My husband was Hutton Pierce.”  
  
“Hutton Pierce,“ Finch said simultaneously. “A highly successful restaurateur, Mr. Pierce was murdered in their apartment about a year ago and the case was never solved. Mrs. Pierce disappeared on the same day. It was never proven conclusively if she was also a victim or if she was the perpetrator.”  
  
Kate looked at John squarely again. “Your friend is telling you that I killed my husband. isn’t he?”  
  
John nodded. He raised his hand again in a ‘just a moment’ gesture. Finch was still talking in his ear. “Margaret Kibbee was born in 1970 and raised in Boston.”  
  
“1970? She shaved off more than a couple years when she changed her identity,” observed Shaw.  
  
Finch continued, “Her father was a successful architect and her mother - oh how marvelous - her mother is the opera singer Vida Eastoft. Miss Kibbee studied music at New York University and became a teacher in Rochester, New York. She does have a Culinary Arts degree from NECI. Married Hutton Pierce in 2007. No children - a medical condition, I’m afraid.”  
  
“More information than I needed, Harold,” John said. Kate was quietly watching him. She looked anxious, as though waiting for a verdict, and sure she would be found guilty. “You went missing the day your husband was found dead in your apartment.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you want me to believe that was a coincidence.”  
  
“It was.”  
  
Though John believed her, he was reluctant to say it out loud. Shaw and Finch would both think he was letting a beautiful woman compromise his judgment. But they weren’t sitting here with her. John was no stranger to interrogation. Kate was telling the truth. “Ok,” he leaned toward her again, consciously making his body language less threatening, “Tell me.”


	3. Chapter 3

_kate _  
  
__John believed her. Kate was almost sure of it. There was no reason not to tell him all of it. He clearly had his own secrets to keep, and if someone really was trying to kill her she had a fair idea who it was. “Well, I did grow up in Boston. But I wasn’t an English teacher. I was ‘encouraged’ by mother to pursue music. Opera specifically.” John made a face. “I see you agree with me,” she gave him a wan smile, “when my career stalled I decided to teach what I knew. But teaching didn’t agree with me and I burned out pretty quickly. I finally decided to try doing what I really wanted to do. Cooking. So I attended NECI. And I loved it.  
  
“Soon after I graduated from culinary school, I was visiting friends in New York. We wound up in one of Hutton Pierce’s restaurants on a night when he happened to be there. He visited our table and asked how we were enjoying our meal and I was brave enough to make a few menu suggestions. Next thing I knew he’d asked me to meet him for dinner. It turned out to be part date - part interview. He was attentive, charming, and very sweet. He offered me a job as a head chef and asked to see me again. I decided to stay in New York instead of going back to Boston. Hut and I lived a fabulous life. I had everything you could possibly want, a beautiful apartment, elegant clothes, fabulous parties, good food.  
  
”I was content to live with him, and things were fine for a couple years, but then Hut wanted to be married. I was reluctant at first but finally I gave in. We’d been married almost three years when I came across his second phone. I assumed at first that he was having an affair.” She paused, “In some ways that would have been better. Through a strange series of events, and a fair amount of snooping, I came to realize that Hutton had been lying to me from the day we met. He was leading a double life. Perfectly conservative businessman on the one hand, he was a gun-smuggler and occasional hit man for his brother on the other.”  
  
“Your husband was a hit man.” John’s voice was flat and his eyes narrowed. Did he still believe her? She knew it sounded ridiculous.  
  
“Yes. Hutton and his brother, Dennis, smuggle guns. Dennis is a real monster, and when he needed someone out of his way, he’d have Hutton - cause an accident.” Kate took a sip from her glass. “My guess is that Dennis found me and wants me dead.”  
  
John looked off into the middle distance and held up a hand. He was listening to the guy on the phone again; John had called him ‘Harold.’ The Scotch glass in his other hand looked like a toy hanging from his long fingers.  
  
“Go ahead.” John said, turning those disturbingly blue eyes back on her, “How did you get here?”  
  
“Well, I had to get away from him. If I just asked for a divorce I might find myself the victim of an accident. I thought about it long and hard and realized that the only answer was to do myself in before he got the chance.”  
  
Kate went on to explain her invention of Kathryn Halifax. Once she started talking she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t had anyone to talk to in a long time, and there would never be anyone else she could tell. Kate explained how it had taken her nearly six months to ensure that Kathryn Halifax was financially stable, had acquired the house, and planned Margaret Hutton’s disappearance. Finally, she chose her big day. Margaret drove to a local park, chosen for its lack of surveillance cameras, and simply walked away. She left her purse, her phone, and herself behind. She carried a bag with a change of clothes, a wig, and a fair amount of pawnable jewelry. Margaret walked into the ladies room and Kathryn walked out. She took a train north, bought a pickup truck along the way, and came home.  
  
In the following days, she had fully expected to hear the news of her disappearance. Instead she was astonished at finding out that she was a person of interest in the matter of her husband’s death. She couldn’t explain the timing or give John any idea who could have done it.  
  
As she talked, John leaned back in the chair and a smile akin to admiration played across his face. He poured himself another drink and listened attentively.  
  
As Kate ended her story she blinked back tears. She was determined not to cry in front of this cool and confident man. The only thing worse than him ignoring her distress would be if he tried to comfort her. “Sorry,” she said quietly, “Needless to say, I’ve never told anyone that before.”  
  
“Nothing to be sorry for.”  
  
“Do you believe me?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Thank you,” Kate was relieved and emotionally wrung out. She needed to get away from him for the moment. “I’m hungry. I’m going to make us something to eat. I’m guessing you need to talk to your friends without me.”  
  
Out in the kitchen she could hear the deep tones of John’s voice but not the words he was saying. _Now what? I’m at the mercy of a group of strangers, one of whom has already been shot because of me._  
  
Kate turned the burner under the beef bourguignon back on and put together a batch of no-knead rolls to go with it. When he was done on the phone, John had removed his ruined vest, washed up and changed into a black t-shirt. A very good look for him. She had set the table while she waited and there was a bottle of ibuprofen next to his plate. He took a chair and set down his refilled glass. “I’ll buy you another bottle.”  
  
Kate smiled, “Not necessary.” She dropped a couple more ice cubes into the glass. “So,” she asked tentatively, “Is there a plan?”  
  
“Everyone has their assignments. Shaw will drive up here first thing in the morning, our friends in NYPD are looking into Pierce’s whereabouts, and Finch is arranging a safe place for me to take you. He’s impressed.”  
  
“By what?”  
  
“By you. He said you managed to establish your new identity with almost no mistakes. It took Pierce almost a year to figure out what had happened to you, even though he was looking. He obviously thinks you killed your husband and wants to make you pay.”  
  
Despite her fears Kate felt very proud of herself. These people could not be easy to impress. “Is he - your friend - still listening?”  
  
“No. I’ll check in with him in the morning.”  
  
Kate nodded, “Thank you, John.”  
  
John looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.  
  
“In case I don’t get to tell you later…”  
  
“Kate,“ John reached out and placed his hand down on hers. Startled by the contact she looked at him and saw that expression again, concerned determination. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”  
  
Kate nodded, as frightened about what might happen to him as she was about herself.


	4. Chapter 4

  
_john _  
  
__John woke early, before the light had started to seep along the edges of the curtains. He lay there for a long time, dressed except for shoes, on the covers of the daybed instead of under them, gun under the pillow. He hadn’t slept much; he rarely did, especially when his protective instincts had taken over. Instead he had listened. Familiarizing himself with the trees in the wind, the sounds the building made, Kate in the loft. At one point, deep in the night, he was sure he had heard her crying and felt himself at a loss as to how to fix it. She was frightened. That was good. She was taking the threat seriously. But was she mourning too? He wasn’t sure. Her story about Pierce had been almost detached. And in truth she had been talking about a woman that no longer existed. No one knew that better than he did.  
  
John had been uncomfortable reaching out to her directly, so he had let her know he was awake by checking the woodstove. Going up to the loft was out of the question. No matter what happened that would not have ended well.  
  
What did he want to happen?  
  
That train switched track when he saw Kate at the top of the stairs moving quietly, so as not to wake him. She made her way down and across the room to the bathroom door. He kept his eyes mostly closed so she wouldn’t know he was awake. Some part of him didn’t want to disturb her morning any more than she had wanted to disturb his. Water turned on and off and a few minutes later he heard her moving around in the kitchen.  
  
The barn door into the kitchen was shut. Kate had turned on some music - very low. He heard pans and silverware and her, humming to herself. It was so - normal. Most people got to actually wake up like this, at least some mornings. John just lay there listening. He had given up normal on the day he ran into Jessica in the airport. He would never get that back. And the Jessica shaped space in his heart would never be filled.  
  
There was a case to be made that he had never been normal. There were those who lived in the world and those who made living in the world possible. He had been one of the latter since he had his first confrontation with a schoolyard bully.  
  
A plow truck rumbled by the house and John could smell coffee, so he got up, stretched, and opened the curtains. The world was a calendar picture of someplace you would like to go but never bother to. The sun glinted across a field of snow just deep enough to cover the grass. The yard fell gently away in a slope down to a small pond. In the distance a line of grey mountains hid their heads in the clouds. To the right, the field was fringed with snow-covered pines. Off to the left, where the driveway passed the house, was a small weathered barn not much bigger than a two car garage. His car was parked next to it, and fresh tire tracks led from the open barn doors out toward the road. _Dammit._ “Kate!” he yelled, knowing she wouldn’t answer.  
  
John shoved the kitchen door open, “Kate!” Music played softly in the empty kitchen, “ _I put a spell on you. Because you’re mine_.” _Dammit_. He wasn’t sure if under his frustration with her there wasn’t some admiration as well.  
  
There was a plate with a wrapped blueberry muffin on the counter next to the little four-cup coffee machine, bubbling and full. Under the mug she had left for him was a piece of paper. Her handwriting was bold and confident:  
  
 _John,_  
 _Don’t be too angry. I always go to town on Friday morning. It would look_  
 _strange if I didn’t. Before you come stalking me, have some breakfast._  
 _And when you do come after me, try not to draw too much attention._  
 _It’s a small town and I hope to be able to live here when_  
 _you are done being my guardian angel._

  
The note was signed with a large letter K and a smiley face that looked infuriatingly like it was smirking at him. He noticed a “Lady Gray” tea bag wrapper on the counter. She’d taken her breakfast with her. Had she actually known when the plow would go by to hide the sound of her vehicle? John hated to think he had been daydreaming to the point that he just hadn’t heard her.  
  
John folded the note and put it in his pocket. His phone rang as he poured himself some coffee. John explained the situation to Finch between sips of coffee and bites of blueberry muffin.  
  
“So your response to losing our Number, Mr. Reese, is to stop for coffee and Danish. Or are you just taking phone etiquette lessons from Miss Shaw?”  
  
“It’s a blueberry muffin. I think it’s homemade. And she’s not lost, Finch. I know exactly where she is. Main street is only three blocks long.“  
  
“Have you cloned her phone?”  
  
“Kate doesn’t have a phone.”  
  
“No phone.” Harold’s patience was wearing thin, “How do you intend to find her, Mr. Reese? You do intend to go find her.”  
  
“Of course, Finch. Last night I planted a tracking device in Kate’s purse and a bug in her watch just in case. Finding her isn’t going to be a problem. Do I have somewhere safe to take her once I’ve found her?”  
  
“Still working on it, Mr. Reese. In the meantime, are you done with breakfast?”

  
John sat in the car and watched Kate make her way down the sidewalk. Unhappy with the arrangement so far, he hoped she was nearly done. John had parked at one end of Main Street so he could surveil what amounted to everything going on in town that morning. Nothing looked out of the ordinary or out of place, other than him. He could see why she hadn’t wanted him tagging along, but he would rather be carrying things to her truck than sitting here in the car. People dressed mostly in jeans and light jackets were going about their business and chatting. Kate was a standout among the rest of the townspeople, wearing a long skirt in green and gold colors over black knee high boots, a heavy cardigan sweater over her turtleneck instead of a windbreaker, and her hair neatly braided. John watched with amusement as she approached a solidly built man carrying a cup of coffee across the street. He was headed for a dump truck with ‘Town of Shelbyville’ painted on the side. Kate asked the man, Adam, how his mother was. His mother was fine – thank you for asking. Kate lamented the weather and how hard he must be working on the muddy roads. For his part, Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other and called Kate ‘Ma’am’ despite the fact that their apparent ages were similar. Kate mentioned one particularly bad spot on her road and wondered aloud when he might get time to fix it. Adam said he’d be glad to see what he could do but there were roads all over town in much worse shape than hers. Kate put a gentle hand on his arm and told him that whenever he got around to it would be just fine. There was no artifice or guile in her words. She was simply being herself. And Adam was bewitched. She may not be Margaret anymore but she still likes to turn heads. John thought, and who could blame her.  
  
Finch had sent him a picture of Margaret and Hutton. It was a publicity shot for the opening of one of his restaurants. She was beautiful and elegant in a black and silver evening gown. He didn’t recognize her at first with short hair, and was surprised at himself that he preferred Kate’s new look. Not that he was going to start shopping for plaid flannel shirts. The man in the picture was – average. Average height and average build. Generally, a tuxedo makes the man but not in Hutton Pierce’s case. He was nondescript except for the close cut beard. John found himself wondering what Kate – Margaret - had seen in the guy.  
  
The small talk he’d been listening to for the better part of two hours was killing him. The weather was chilly for this time of year. Or it was warm for this time of year. Or it was just right. More bad weather was moving in soon, snow or rain or something in the middle. Good weather for ‘sugaring’ or bad, opinions varied. It took him a while to realize that they were discussing maple syrup production, and that it was a very big deal. As was the mud. ‘Mud season’ they called it in somewhat grave tones. Also Mildred Ames had fallen and broken her hip. Her daughter would be coming home from Texas to ‘do for her’ when she got out of the hospital. What was the church choir going to do without having Millie to play on the piano? Had Kate heard that Robert Proulx had resigned from the Selectboard only a few weeks after Town Meeting? John missed his concussion. How did people live like this?  
  
He was startled by a man with a scraggly beard and a mane of unkempt blond hair bounding down the library steps and clutching Kate’s left hand, “Susie! Susie Q!” The man’s baritone boomed into John’s ear. John’s body tensed and he reached for the door handle as he read Kate’s body language. Susie? Did she have a third alias he didn’t know about? She tried to pull her hand away and take a step back but the man didn’t let her go. He was tall with long limbs and he wore faded jeans, combat boots, an old military jacket complete with a name tag, and a white and blue patterned scarf around his neck as though he’d just returned from the desert. He was looking at Kate with a possessiveness that set John distinctly on edge.  
  
“Alex, what are you doing here?” her voice was strained but not frightened. John relaxed - a little.  
  
“It’s good to see you too, Suze.” He replied, feigning offense.  
  
“Please don’t call me that,” her offense was real. Not an alias, John realized, a pet name. John didn’t like it.  
  
“You, my dear Suzie, are looking more beautiful than ever,” the man announced. John did not like the way he was staring at Kate yet ignoring her at the same time. The man, Alex, moved to brush a tendril of hair back from Kate’s face and with a quick motion she freed her hand and blocked him. A motion that to his practiced eye was a skill acquired in some sort of self-defense training class. John smiled. He was curiously proud of her, but still wasn’t going to let this conversation last too much longer.  
  
Kate made a dismissive sound, “And how’s Elaine?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Elaine,” Kate was clearly annoyed.  
  
"Oh, she’s…good. Elaine’s great. But how are things with you?”  
  
“I’m fine. Things are good here. My website has been more successful than I could have hoped.” Not missing a beat she added, “How long ago did you and Elaine split up?”  
  
“I’m not here to talk about Elaine-“  
  
“What are you here to talk about, Alex? Baltimore isn’t exactly a day trip.”  
  
“Since when did you start calling me ‘Alex’?”  
  
“I’m sure you know exactly when,” Kate’s tone was cold, and hurt.  
  
“I don’t like this guy, Finch.” John grumbled.  
  
“If you intend to intervene, Mr. Reese, might I suggest a non-violent approach?“  
  
“You might,” John replied, “but I know how to make it look like an accident.”  
  
Alex stepped closer to Kate, “Suze, I’m sorry. I know I’ve hurt you.” Kate responded by bringing her right hand up between them to play with her earring. The posture was non-confrontational but subtly defensive. Alex wasn’t taking the hint. He moved closer to her and his voice was so low John had trouble hearing him. “I’ve missed you so much, Susie Q.” _She told you not to call her that_ , John thought irritably.  
  
“Well, I doubt that very much, and I am not your Susie anymore,” Kate said, stepping back and extending her hand out toward him, “I’ve had about enough.”  
  
“Another guy?”  
  
“Right, it must be another guy. I can’t just be done with you.” She sighed, “Go back to Baltimore, Alex. Please. My life is none of your business.” Kate started down the sidewalk toward John’s car, parked in front of the café. John had also had enough. He stepped from the car as calmly as he could, well aware that Kate did not want a scene. Alex reached out, took her arm, and turned her back to face him. _I’m going to bury this guy_ , John thought.  
  
“Hey, Kate, I’m sorry. I just-“ Kate had deftly slipped his grip, the heel of her hand coming to rest against his sternum. She could drop him. Kate was the one showing restraint. _Why_? John hesitated. They hadn’t seen him yet. Her back was to him and Alex was only focused on her.  
  
“If you must know, I’ve…just met someone.” She took one step back, her tone was stressed, but with resentment not fear.  
  
“You have?” asked Alex. His disappointment hung in the air around her.  
  
 _She has?_  
  
"Yes” she paused, “Very recently. He’s…intense. Reserved. Maybe if I’m lucky he’ll give me a chance to get to know him better--“  
  
John heard Shaw’s voice in his ear, “She’s talking about you, genius. She’s hoping to use you to scare him away. Not a bad idea, I mean …if you’re out of other options….go help the girl out.”  
  
“I thought you were on your way here, Shaw.” John said irritably.  
  
“I am. I’m conferencing. Staying in the loop. Making sure you don’t screw up before I get there to save your ass.”  
  
“Non-violence, please, Mr. Reese.” Finch admonished again, ignoring their sniping.  
  
“—I was supposed to meet him this morning but I must have gotten my time wrong.” Kate was saying.


	5. Chapter 5

  
_kate_  
  
“Kate! There you are!” As though she had summoned him, John was at her side. He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick kiss on the right temple. “Am I late?” The gesture was defiantly territorial. John was locking stares with Alex who had stood a little straighter. John was taller.  
  
“John?” Kate was bewildered for a moment. The skin where he’d kissed her was warm. “Late? No,” she said, “No, you are right on time.”  
  
John slid his hand down across Kate’s back and took her hand. A shiver went up her spine from the contact. “Good, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting. Who knows what kind of element roams the streets of small towns up here?“ John was smiling except for his eyes which were focused on Alex’s face. Alex, in return was staring icy blue lasers at John. It was like watching a lion and a wolf preparing to do battle. She almost felt bad for the lion.  
  
 _Which one of them is going to pee on my shoes first?_ Kate was amused. She was secretly relieved that John had shown up when he had. She had been handling the situation fine on her own, and she hadn’t felt bodily threatened, just annoyed. Kate didn’t consider brute force a reasonable response to annoyance. As good as it felt to have John come to her aid, she was also keenly aware that she was merely a conquest to one, and a mission to the other. “John Casey,” she said smoothly, “this is Alexander Raiford.”  
  
“My friends call me Zander, or just Zan,” Alex held out his hand to John, but looked pointedly at Kate.  
  
“Alex.” John replied stonily as he shook hands then glanced disdainfully at the row of hoops in Alex’s left ear. Kate looked at her shoe to hide her smile and she gave John’s hand a little squeeze. To her surprise he squeezed back.  
  
“Alex is an accomplished artist. He’s had a few high profile shows and last fall he was commissioned to paint a mural in the lobby of the library.” Kate realized that she sounded condescending rather than proud to know him and then wished she was more sorry for that.  
  
“That must be….lucrative.”  
  
“That isn’t why I do it, but it can be.” Alex was getting angry, “I have a major show in New York in June...And what do you do, John?”  
  
“I make the world a safer place.”  
  
“How’s that?’  
  
“I run a security company in New York.”  
  
Alex looked down at John’s feet, “What, no jack-boots today?”  
  
“They don’t go with the suit. Were you military?"  
 _ _  
__ _'_ "No.”  
  
“Nice jacket. You look a little young for Vietnam.”  
  
“This was my father’s jacket,” Alex’s eyes narrowed.  
  
A light mist had started. Next to her, John was rigid with tension. Before Kate could figure out how to break up the face-off John turned to her, “Kate, your hands are freezing.” _Not one bit_ , she thought as he gently rubbed her hand between his. “And it’s gotten - unpleasant out here. Let’s get you a cup of tea.” John gave Alex a dazzling smile that never reached his eyes, “Raiford, It’s been an eye-opening experience. I’d invite you along but, you know, third wheel and all.” John deftly turned Kate around, took her other hand, and headed back down the street abandoning Alex on the sidewalk.  
  
Kate giggled and pressed a cheek against John’s arm, “Thank you, John. Alex can be….”  
  
“He’s an asshole.” The irritation came off him in waves.  
  
“Not the word I was going for, but all right,” Kate laughed softly, “And I was handling him just fine.”  
  
“I didn’t say you weren’t. You just shouldn’t have to.” His tone suggested he was stating an immutable law of the universe. Kate had never considered chivalry that way before. John had intervened not because she was weak, but because it was the right thing - in John’s estimation the only thing - to do.  
  
John pulled the cafe door open for her. He glanced back and frowned at Alex who was still standing where they had left him, dumbfounded. “He’s an ex?” John sounded perplexed and somehow personally insulted _ _ _ _.  
  
____ “Unfortunately,” Kate guided him to a small table by the window, “I always sit here,” she said. The waitress, Kelly, came over with Kate’s usual tea, John asked for coffee, and they ordered some lunch.  
  
John looked at her curiously, “Susie Q?”  
  
Kate made a face. “You know, the song by CCR.” She sang, “ _Oh Susie Q, baby I love you_.” John closed his eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Not that it’s any of your business,” Kate said, “but I don’t like it either.” Over John’s shoulder Kate saw Alice Walsh coming their way. _Well, this ought to be good._ She thought with a smile.  
  
Alice was wearing her mischievous look, “Katie-Did, how you doin’, Dear?” Alice leaned over and hugged her. Kate planted a kiss on the old woman’s cheek. “You know, you two make a pretty pitchur, if you don’t mind my saying.” Alice was a tiny, older woman, with merry eyes. Her voice was heavy with a backwoods Vermont accent that had a sing-song quality to it. Alice looked at John admiringly, eye to eye with him though he was sitting. “Young Man, you got any idea how handsome you are?”  
  
“Excuse me?” John seemed startled by the question.  
  
“As far as I can tell, no, he doesn’t,” Kate giggled.  
  
“He’s a looker all right. You should marry that one, Kid,” Alice patted Kate’s arm and pointed.  
  
“I think we’ll just stick with lunch, Alice.” Then Kate stage whispered, "It’s only our first date,” unaware that her smile was radiant.  
  
“Date?” asked John, bewildered.  
  
“Like you don’t look like the cat what just caught that canary,” Alice turned to John, ”You don’t talk much do you? Well, that’s ok, Honey, there’s plenty better to be doin’ than talkin’.”  
  
“What?” said John again.  
  
Alice changed the subject abruptly, “Katie, you comin’ up to Sugar On Snow at the farm? It’s next week.”  
  
“Are you inviting me?”  
  
“Well, Honey, you know you don’t need a invite. ‘Are you coming?’ is what I as’ed you.”  
  
“You know I wouldn’t miss your donuts for all the world.”  
  
Alice made a self-deprecating sound and waved her hand dismissively but it was obvious she was pleased.  
  
“You bringin’ this tall drink of water?” She motioned at John, who stared at Alice in disbelief.  
  
“I think he’ll be back in New York before then Alice, but thank you,’ Kate replied. John seemed vaguely frightened by this woman who looked for all the world like a Christmas elf.  
  
“We was gonna hafta make _more_ food if you brung him. Anyway, you gonna help us with the music this Sund’y at the church?”  
  
“Not this Sunday, Alice, but probably next week. I’m not sure if I’ll be available this Sunday. Besides I haven’t played in a long time, I’ll need to practice. I’m beginning to think Millie threw herself down those stairs just so you ladies could get me into the church.”  
  
Alice laughed and looked slyly at John. She leaned over and whispered in Kate’s ear. Kate listened to Alice but watched John who looked more and more uncomfortable by the second. Kate could tell that his phone was on and his friends were likely teasing him. Kate laughed out loud, “Thanks, sweetie, I’ll keep that in mind.” Kate kissed Alice’s cheek again and Alice patted John’s arm, “Nice to meet you, Son,” her eyes were still twinkling as she walked away.  
  
“What is so funny?” John was totally lost.  
  
“Nothing” Kate was choking back the giggles and her eyes were tearing up with the effort. John still looked confused which only made Kate laugh harder. “I’m sorry,” She said, “Alice just had some ideas for how we should spend our Sunday morning.” Kate shielded her face with her hand as if that would hide the fact that she was enjoying his obvious embarrassment.  
  
John flushed. He looked at the ceiling. Then he stabbed the ear piece for his phone with the tip of his middle finger. She was certain he had just hung up on his friends.  
  
Alone at last, she thought. Kate gave him a satisfied smirk, “So much for keeping a low profile. Now you are going to have to marry me and invest in work boots and flannel shirts.” She took sip of her tea. “You know,” she said, mercifully changing the subject, “it was really amazing the way you just showed up - out of the blue like that. I mean, I was sure you would spend the morning keeping an eye on me but your timing was spot on. Like a superhero or something. So what I‘m wondering is - where did you hide the bug?”  
  
John choked a bit on his coffee. “What?”  
  
“The bug. Give me a little credit, John. Either you planted some sort of listening device on me or you have hearing straight out of a comic book.” John didn’t answer. Kate could tell he was trying on explanations other than the truth. “Option three is that you couldn’t stand to see me with another man,” she batted her eyelashes at him, then dropped the affectation with a chuckle. John looked at her sharply. The wicked side of her wanted to push him, but she felt she had teased enough for now. “Well, where is it?”  
  
“You have to promise me you won’t remove it. If we got separated…” his sweet concern was back and she liked that better than embarrassing him, but the reminder of her predicament took all the fun out of the conversation.  
  
“I won’t. Never mind, I was just curious,” she said quietly.  
  
John reached for her left hand and stopped himself, as though he was suddenly afraid to touch her. “It’s inside your wristwatch. I wasn’t trying to-“  
  
“I know.” She put her hand on his arm, “You wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard if you didn’t think I’d try to give you the slip this morning. Pretty good plan wasn’t it?" she grinned, "How long did it take you to figure-”  
  
“Longer than it should have,“ he pulled away testily, his mood returning to confident brooder now that the conversation had circled back to why he was here. ”Tell me about that guy, Alex. How did you end up with him?”  
  
“Why? He’s not the threat.”  
  
“Humor me,” he said it gently, but his eyes were hard. Maybe she had hit on something when she speculated that John’s hostility toward Alex was more than just the mission. She had hated having to resort to using John to get rid of Alex, but she was desperately trying to keep from drawing attention. Disabling an up-and-coming artist on the steps of the library in broad daylight wasn’t the way to go about it.  
  
“All right. I met him a few weeks after I came here. He was working on the mural at the library, and was only going to be in town a few more days. He was really….taken with me. It made me feel good about myself. After Hutton. I’m not proud of it, but much of the allure of the relationship was that it was only supposed to last four or five days.” She paused and looked away.  
  
“I’m not here to judge you, Kate.”  
  
“He went back to Baltimore and I thought it was done. But he called me on the phone nearly every night. He sent me little presents in the mail. He missed me. He wanted me to come live with him. He loved me so much he couldn’t stand having me so far away. We argued about it often but I was never afraid of him. And I’ll admit I felt some satisfaction that I’d gotten under his skin.” She glanced up at John. He raised his eyebrows in a ‘why not’ sort of gesture. “Finally, I told him that if all of our conversations led to arguments than maybe he should really think about whether or not I was the right person for him. A week went by with no phone calls. Ten days. Then one night the phone rang. It was him. ‘Susie Q,’ he said, ‘you’ve been replaced.’ What kind of person starts a conversation like that?”  
  
“I told you - an asshole,” the disdain on John’s face was plain.  
  
Kate smiled at him. “He told me her name was Elaine, and started describing her in far more intimate detail than I cared to know. So I hung up on him. The man has no boundaries. I haven’t seen or heard from him since then…Just before Halloween I guess it was. Men are such -” She stopped herself. “Nevermind.”  
  
John leaned back in his chair. “I’ve made my share of mistakes where women are concerned. But I would never do something like that.”  
  
“If I thought you were like that I wouldn’t have left breakfast for you this morning,” Kate grinned.  
  
“Tell me more about Pierce,” John had judged Alex non-threatening and therefore irrelevant.  
  
“What can I say? Nothing that will help you stop him. Dennis is handsome, urbane, charismatic, manipulative, condescending and entitled. He was, I thought, just a necessary… irritation in my life.” Kate fell silent and focused her attention on her lunch.


	6. Chapter 6

_john_

John stayed quiet. He was acutely aware that he had stumbled into painful territory. John hadn’t thought before he’d asked, he had just wanted to get off the subject of Raiford and had blundered into something worse. It was clear that Kate didn’t have any useful information on Dennis or his activities. Finch would keep him apprised of the situation.

“You know, I thought Dennis and Hutton were fraternal twins when I first met them,” Kate said abruptly. “They were inseparable. And even though Hut was older, Dennis took the lead. I did my best to accept Dennis, but I never cared for him. Sometimes getting any private time with Hutton was nearly impossible. There was something else, though. He was…“ She groped for a word, then shrugged and blurted out, “He’s creepy. That’s the only way to describe it. He scared me. There was something – off – about him. I always felt like I was being stalked when he was in the room. At first, I argued with Hutton over the amount of time Dennis spent hanging around, then I gave up. I spent less time with the two of them. When I was there - I pretended everything was fine – for Hutton. And what did that get me?” She took a deep breath and looked at John. “I got a man who, as far as I can tell, lied to me every day we were together.” Kate’s hands had started to shake and she wrapped them around her mug of tea. “Hut was sweet, attentive, and passionate about the same things I was passionate about. He was steady and solid and I could rely on him. And he lied and he lied and he lied.” Kate’s voice had risen in frustration, but she checked it before she got too loud. She took a sip of tea. “I didn’t-“ Kate took a breath. “Forget it.”

“What?”

“John if I start talking, I’m going to start _talking_. I’ve had no one to confide in since this whole mess started.” She smiled weakly, “You’re a man of very few words, and I know you can keep a secret.”

“So talk,” John shrugged, “maybe I’ll even pay attention.” He smiled back at her. His tone was teasing but his gaze settled on her gently.

Kate looked at him thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter if I scare you away with my craziness. You are only here until I don’t die and by next week you won’t even remember me, right?”

John rolled his shoulders, “Half right.” 

She seemed momentarily puzzled by the statement but let it go. “I started to say that I didn’t even want to marry Hutton in the first place. I don’t believe in marriage except where children are concerned. My own parents’ marriage was a nightmare. Dad only stayed because he didn’t want to be limited to visitations and he knew Mother would never let me out of her clutches.” She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Unimportant. Hutton and I got along fine. We lived together for a few years and neither of us even mentioned marriage. Then, seemingly overnight, marriage was all he could talk about. He pushed and pushed. I finally decided that my only two options were to marry him or leave him entirely. I didn’t see any reason to leave him. Even Dennis wasn’t a good enough reason. So I gave in.” Kate shifted in her chair, “sounds even more pathetic when you say it out loud.” She picked absently at the remains of her lunch, and made a rueful sound, “And to top it all off, he couldn’t have just cheated on me.” 

John was at a loss, but Kate didn’t seem to be looking for consolation, just a sounding board. That was fine with him. John suggested they head back to the house. He didn’t think they were in immediate danger but better safe than sorry. Hopefully, Finch had made headway on a safe house. As John walked Kate to her truck he kept an eye out for Raiford, but the artist was nowhere to be seen.

John followed Kate’s beat up old Dodge Ram back to her house. At one point they had to maneuver around Adam’s town truck where he was dumping gravel on the muddy spot Kate had mentioned. She beeped her horn and waved as she edged by. _Poor guy never had a chance._ John smiled.

Just about then Finch called, “Mr. Reese, I have found you a safe house, though I fear it may be a bit – rustic.”

“How rustic?”

"It is heated with a wood stove, there is electricity, and I am reasonably sure it has running water.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“The place is a remote cabin of some sort on 75 acres. I am sending you the location. The man who owns it had a heart attack a couple weeks ago. With the worst of the cold weather over, and as eager as they were to sell, I am hoping the family didn’t bother to winterize the place when they left it. I’ve been assured there is furniture and enough amenities to make the place livable but not necessarily hospitable. The family took a few personal items but left most of what was there. Miss Shaw will be arriving at Miss Halifax’s home within the hour. Detectives Carter and Fusco are tracking Pierce. There is an ice storm coming your way, so might I suggest you move Miss Halifax to safety as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, Finch, I’ll get in touch with you from there if I can.”

“There’s a sat-phone in your car, Mr. Reese. If you are unable to use your ear piece you will not be completely out of touch.”

“Not my first time in a remote area, Harold. But thanks.”

At Kate’s house, John parked the car at the top of the driveway near the front door and stepped out into the light rain. He met Kate halfway down the drive and reached for her shopping bags, “We need to go. My friends have found us a safe house. You have 10 minutes.”

“I’ll only need five.” Kate said relinquishing the bags and unlocking the house. “Where are we going?” she asked. John was struck by her calm. He set the bags down on the kitchen island and she started putting cold things away in the refrigerator, ignoring anything that didn’t have to be put away immediately.

John showed her the information Finch had sent her. “A camp of some sort on Rowley Pond.“

“That’s a bit of a drive. How long will we be there?”

“One night, maybe two.“

“Running water?”

“Not sure.”

“Heat?”

“Wood stove”

“Wood pile?”

“It’s been occupied most of the winter.”

“This is a better idea than staying here?”

“Yes “

“Well,” Kate considered for a moment. He expected resistance, more questions, even a flat refusal. But she surprised him by going back into the entryway. “There are a couple gallons of water on the top shelf in there,” she pointed. “And this,” she pulled a large plastic box out of the closet, “has food in it.” Kate looked up at him and shrugged, “Sometimes you get snowbound for a couple days. I’ll be ready in no time.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

When John came back from stowing the supplies in the car, he saw the basket of sky blue “Lady Gray” tea bags on the counter. Impulsively he grabbed some and stuffed them in the pocket of his jacket. Then he heard Kate call his name. He stepped into the living room. “Kate? Are you all right?”

”I’m fine.” she replied from the loft. He looked up and saw her standing by the railing, framed by the canopy over her bed and holding a blue duffle bag in her hands. There was an open door behind her, into an attic room over the kitchen. She was wearing a soft looking black turtleneck sweater warmer than the green one she had been wearing in town. “Here – catch,” she heaved the bag over the railing.

“What’s this?” John asked as he easily grabbed the bag from the air.

“My ‘go-bag.’” He looked up at her again. Her skirt was hitched up around her waist now. John’s heart skipped a beat and he was momentarily confused. _What the hell is she doing?_ Then he realized she had pulled a pair of jeans on under the skirt which she now unzipped and let fall to floor. 

“Your what?” He said, trying to regain his composure.

“Go-bag. Isn’t that what you call it?” her expression was puzzled as she came down the stairs. 

“Yes,” he smiled indulgently, “I’m just surprised you have one.”

“Well, I didn’t know if I might have to hide again and generally there’s no one here to save me in case of emergency.”

“Do you have a weapon?” he asked.

“You mean a gun?” she paused, then replied almost apologetically, “No, I don’t. I’m uncomfortable with guns and don’t have anyone I trust to teach me.” John was helplessly holding the duffle as she unzipped it just enough to stuff in the sweater she had carried down with her. “My boots are in the mudroom. I’ll be out in a sec.” Kate grabbed her purse off the chair and went through the bathroom door.

“We are not done discussing your safety,” John’s voice carried through the house.

“I’m not surprised,” she called back imitating his tone.

John was serious about a conversation with Kate regarding weapons. It was foolish to live out here, alone, without a gun. She should also have a dog. A big dog. But he didn’t have time to think about that now.

Before zipping his own duffle he stuffed the bottle of Glenfiddich, now less than a third full, into it. On his way back through the kitchen he took the two blueberry muffins from the basket and balanced them on top of his bag. He had just enough time to put everything in the back seat and get in the driver’s side when Kate came bursting out the back door. Instead of getting in the car she gave him a ‘wait a minute’ gesture and hurried down the hill to the barn. John started the car and entered the address of the safe house in the vehicle’s GPS.

A moment later, Kate was back. Her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. “We’ll need this,” she said, opening a map book and searching the page. Her hand made a graceful but dismissive gesture toward the dashboard screen, “GPS is less than useless up here.”

John was skeptical.

“Promise. We’ll spend hours driving in wrong directions on bad roads.” She looked down at the page again. A few dark curls had escaped her braid and were partially hiding her face. John fought the urge to tuck them back behind her ear. “There will still be bad roads, but I think I can limit how long we stay on them.”

“All right. Where do we go?” John pulled the Audi out of the drive and headed back down the road towards town. He followed her directions without argument, even when it seemed to him they were doubling back, or going roundabout ways.

Kate was very calm. Quiet except when giving him directions. “Kate,” John said, “I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead. And turn right about a quarter mile ahead. The sign should say Bear Hollow Road.”

“When this is over…do you want to keep this identity?” John waited. He knew this was a difficult question.

“I hadn’t even considered it, to be honest. I don’t miss New York as much as you would think. I don’t miss much of anything from my old life.” Kate looked back down at the map book. “We’ll be on this road for two miles and you’ll take a left. You want to hear something funny? I do kind of miss my birthday. My real birthday, it's in May not Otober. Isn’t that a strange thing to miss?” She shifted in her seat. “I like it here and as boring as you must find it, at least the people actually seem to care about each other.” She was quiet for a few more moments. “I think I do want to stay here. Does it make sense to you if I say I prefer Kate over Maggie?’

“More than you realize.” Some deep part of him was disappointed, but he pushed that part of him aside and kept driving.

The Audi easily handled the terrain, but the rain was turning to sleet as the storm approached, and John wanted Kate safe and sound, warm and dry, before it got dark. Finally, they turned down a road marked ‘Private.’ It was badly rutted and very narrow; if they got stuck, they would be backing out. A half mile further the road widened into a clearing. Overlooking a small lake, a shabby, unpainted cabin was built into the hill with the front end resting on stilts. There was firewood on the porch and more underneath the building. 

It took John only moments to pick the lock on the front door. The light through the dirty windows was dim and gray. John took a flashlight from the pocket of his jacket. They stood in a large room - living space on the left, kitchen on the right. Part of the half that was the kitchen was walled in as a small bathroom. Two doors on the far wall led to bedrooms. Only the bathroom had real walls and a ceiling. The other walls were two by four frames with pieces of paneling nailed to them and the rooms were open to the rafters. Somehow it seemed colder inside than it was outside.

“Harold said it might be rustic,” John noted sardonically.

“Harold was being generous.” Kate said, “The bad news is that we won’t be using the stove.” The wood stove sat in the far corner of the living room, but most of the stove pipe was missing and the end that went through the roof had been capped to keep out animals. There were scorch marks on the wall and a lingering smell of smoke. The chimney fire had been controlled enough not to damage the structure of the building, but it left John and Kate with no heat. The temperatures tonight would be just about freezing. John guessed it was about 50 in the house right now. Kate took a deep breath. “Ok, let’s see what we do have. The refrigerator is running so we must have electricity.” She flipped the switch by the door but the light didn’t come on. “If we find the breaker box I think we’ll have lights.”

John dutifully went to look around. He was impressed again by Kate’s level of calm. She seemed to be taking everything in stride. After flipping the breakers he found under the porch, John got the box of food from the car and went back inside to find Kate – organizing.

“Oh, thank you, put that right here,” she said almost cheerfully from the kitchen area. “So, we have running cold water but no hot. There’s a few beers in the fridge and a couple frozen dinners in the freezer that we will not be eating.” She made a face. 

“This” she pointed to the door nearest the bathroom. “Is a master bedroom, if you can call it that. And that,” she waved at the other door, “has a couple sets of bunk beds in it. There are sleeping bags in that room. The bed in the master bedroom is made so there are pillows and whatnot –“ she was chattering now. Giving him instructions to bring in the duffle bags, please, and pointing out that the only heat source in the cabin was the electric stove.

“Kate.” John said patiently, “I need to let Harold know we are here. Then I will help you with whatever you need.”

“All right,” She took a large metal wash basin and started filling it with tap water. “I’ll start with hot water. The dishes need to be cleaned again before we can use them. Mice,’ Kate made another face, “And I’ll see what I can find around here for towels.”

John left her to it.

The rain had died down to a light mist again, and John managed to find a spot on the dock where the cell reception was good enough to check in. “Great safe house, Finch. Someone lived up here all winter?”

“Apparently the man desired solitude even more than you do, Mr. Reese.”

“I think maybe you should do the fieldwork next time.”

“I apologize for the accommodations. I can only do so much.”

“Don’t be a baby, Reese.“ That was Shaw, “Did you find the sat-phone I left you?” _Did they all think he didn’t know what he was doing?_

John ignored her question. “Do Carter and Fusco know what is going on with Dennis Pierce?”

“Well, Pierce knows where you are, I can tell you that much.” Shaw sounded delighted in her disappointment with him. “While you and Kate were getting romantic at lunch, the guy you ran into in town yesterday broke into Kate’s house and planted a bug. He’s already phoned home and told Dennis where to find you. The good news is the ice storm. You are probably still safe there, at least for now.”

“I agree with Miss Shaw, with the weather moving in you should stay there overnight if you can. However, since they know you are there the safe house is no longer safe. You should return to Miss Halifax’s home as soon as you are able.”

“Negative, Finch. We are staying here and letting them come to us. Kate wants to keep her cover identity intact. A shootout at her place will raise questions.”

“I sympathize with her concerns Mr. Reese. How is Miss Halifax handling the situation?”

“She’s a very...intriguing person, Finch. She doesn’t complain or argue, and she adapts to the changes in her situation quickly.”

“You sound positively smitten,“ said Shaw.

“She bugged out faster than you can get ready for a girls night out, Shaw.” John sniped back, “right now she’s on the verge of redecorating the safe house.”

“Excuse me?” Finch said.

“She’s cleaning and organizing.”

“She wants to play ‘House’?” Shaw said with an obvious smirk.

“Miss Halifax is most likely coping with the stress by finding something useful to do to take her mind off her current circumstances. She’s ‘nesting’,” noted Finch.

“I just said that,” replied Shaw.

“Hardly.“

“I’ll check in tomorrow morning,” John hung up on them. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to Harold scold Shaw. He retrieved the bags of clothes and one of the three sat phones he found in the car. Back inside John found that Kate had indeed, redecorated. _How long was I outside?_

She had dragged the couch, a sofa bed, into the middle of the room and opened it. Then covered the mattress with a sheet and unrolled two sleeping bags on it. A couple pillows and some extra blankets stacked across the foot of the bed completed the scene. On the stove, the water in the pan was steaming. The box of food had been stowed under the kitchen table, except for the items that had been unpacked and arranged in anticipation of dinner. John recalled what Shaw had said about playing House and wondered if she was right. He could hear Kate, humming to herself. John followed the sound into the bunk room. She was in the closet, standing on her tip toes on the top step of a rickety step-stool, reaching for something on a shelf. The stool looked like it was about to fall over. Kate was singing softly to herself, “ _The way your smile just beams, the way you sing off key_.” Each time it looked like she was about to fall she shifted her weight and the stool would right itself, “The way you haunt my dreams….No they can't take that away from-“ Kate let out a little yelp as John stepped behind her, took her by the waist and set her down on the floor.

“No.” John said as the stool tipped again but did not fall. He left his hands on her waist for just a moment too long but Kate pulled away and turned on him.

“You scared the hell out of me, John,“ he couldn’t read the look on her face. “Just ‘No’? Not ‘Hell no?’ Not ‘Kate, be careful you’ll get hurt?’ Not ‘Let me get that for you, Kate?’ Just ‘No?’” she mimicked his stoic tone and she wrinkled her nose at him again. “You need to work on your social skills, John. People would trust you much more readily if you were nicer. Personally, I think you-“

John pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “What were you doing, Kate?”

Kate’s demeanor changed completely, “Oh – right - there’s a small box fan up there and I have this idea. I was waiting for you because – ok well, I could’ve started without you but you are just the type of guy to walk in and take the hammer away from me and say ‘no’. And – oh thank you, luv.” As she talked John had kicked the stool further into the closet, stepped on the bottom step, more because it was in his way than because he needed to, and retrieved the fan. “So it’s OK for you to use the dangerous step-stool but not me?” Kate asked sweetly.

John looked at Kate then at the step-stool, “Yes.”

She smiled that soft, gentle smile again, the one that unnerved him, “All right – just checking. So come here – this is my plan.”

It was a good plan. And given a few more minutes he would’ve thought of it himself. The kitchen area was designated by a four foot high partition cobbled together from two by fours and particle board that didn’t do much more than hide the wires on the back of the fridge and the stove. Only a few nails connected the partition to the front wall of the cabin. Once the partition was removed, the stove could be turned to face the sofa bed. With the oven on and the door open they had, in effect, a space heater. Placing the fan on open door and setting it to low speed encouraged the heat to come into the room before rising to the rafters.

When that was done Kate took over the kitchen. She shooed John away and started cooking. Most of what they had brought with them was in cans, but the smell from the pan was wonderful.

John sat in an overstuffed chair in the far corner of the living room. He tried to distract himself with an outdated magazine from the pile on the table but there was nothing there that interested him. The domesticity of the scene was making him uncomfortable. Kate was singing to herself as she worked. She seemed to have almost forgotten he was there. She glanced up at him and abruptly stopped in the middle of the line, “ _Breeze driftin’ on by, you know how I feel. It’s a new dawn_ \- Sorry, I forgot myself there.”

“That’s ok. It sounded good.”

“Well, thanks. I don’t think people sing out loud often enough.” She poured soup into the bowls, “Of course if I had my way, life would be like a musical. People bursting into song whenever they felt like it.” She motioned him over to the kitchen handed him a bowl. “I can see by the scowl, you hate that idea.”

John just shrugged. He leaned against the wall, paying close attention to the contents of his dish, still feeling awkward with the quiet coziness of the situation.

“John,” Kate said, “I don’t expect us to sit at a table like an old married couple, but you could alight somewhere.” She was perched on the end of the bed with her bowl on the oven door.

John grabbed a kitchen chair and sat down. “The soup is good, thank you.”

Kate smiled, “You’re welcome. I think I did all right with just some canned stuff and dry noodles. I’m glad you aren’t picky.”

“In survival school you learn that you can get anything down if you put enough Tabasco on it,” John said, then realized that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. He felt his face grow a little warm.

“If it’s that bad I think I have some hot sauce in the food box, ” Kate glanced sideways at him and he could see she was teasing.

“I’ve got some in the car if I need it,” He smiled wryly.

She took another bite and looked at him, “So tell me about you.”

“Nothing to tell.”

“Right,” she let it go and went back to her dinner. But a few minutes later he became aware that she was looking at him again. When he looked back at her she said, “Music.”

John raised an eyebrow, “Music?”

“What kind of music do you like? Unless you are one of those unfortunate souls that doesn’t like music.” She didn’t give him a chance to answer, “Don’t worry- I can fix that.” She spoke as though they had a lifetime to work with. ”I’m pretty sure I know what you used to listen to in high school, but most people evolve. I think you’d like-“

“And what did I listen to in high school?” John was inexplicably irritated.

She looked at him again. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “Well, I’m going to guess you liked heavy metal. You weren’t one of the metal heads really. With the long hair, smoking pot. No, you kept your hair short and wore Army Surplus stuff and you were just waiting to get out of high school so you could go into the army. Quiet and a little scary but always polite. Chivalrous even.” Kate dropped her spoon into her bowl and pushed it away. Her expression now was almost challenging. “And while you listened to _Rock You Like a Hurricane_ in your car, you secretly liked _Still Lovin’ You_ when the headphones were in.”

John frowned. The degree of accuracy was unsettling. She wasn’t exactly right, but she wasn’t exactly wrong either.

“Oh, now that was a song. How did that go….it’s been a long time.” Kate hummed a bit to herself and said, “The chorus to that song was simply amazing.” She started to sing almost to herself at first, as she found the melody. “I will be there. I will be there” Then she found the missing memory and her voice rose. John was stunned at the sound that came out of her then. Angelic and heartbroken at the same time, it filled the room, and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

_Pride has built a wall so strong that I can’t get through._

_Is there really no chance?_

_This can’t be the end._

_I’m still loving you._

She had closed her eyes, and completely given herself over to the song. Her voice was a deep ache. John had an inexplicable desire to hunt down and punish whoever had hurt her so intensely. The last note seemed to last forever. John didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she spoke, and the spell was broken. “I loved that song. The thought that someone could love you that deeply. The yearning in his voice. Like he might die without you.” She sighed, “That song just made my heart hurt and my toes curl.” Kate laughed, suddenly self-conscious. Was she blushing a bit? She rubbed her arms, “I have goosebumps…I told you I get carried away.” Kate got up and took the empty bowls to the kitchen. “Yeah, I think you were maybe like one of those guys.”

John attempted to turn the conversation to his advantage. “Did you ever give one of those guys a chance?”

She raised an eyebrow and made a dismissive sound. “Oh, I see. You think I was a rich girl, above it all and too good for the rabble?” John didn’t answer. He was keenly aware that somehow, again, he had lost his footing with this woman. “As a matter of fact, I was a bit of a misfit. Operatically trained sixteen year olds aren’t exactly part of the popular crowd. And – I would have you know - I intended to spend the rest of my life with one of ‘those guys.’” Kate set the dishes in the sink and turned on the heat under the pan of water. “He was sweet, and fiercely protective of me. And he loved me - just that much.” Kate folded herself into a quilt and sat back down on the edge of the bed. She stared into the open oven as though it were a fireplace. “I loved him completely……Unfortunately, he was also violent.”

John bristled. “He hit you?”

“Not exactly. Our senior year we were absolutely inseparable. I couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend. He treated me well. We seldom argued. He was ready to enlist in the Marines. We talked about getting married. Mother was horrified. Dad was less so, just concerned that we were so young. He asked me to wait. One year.

“Somehow a calm discussion about our future turned into an argument. We’d been having more and more arguments lately and they were getting progressively louder and more,” she paused, “let’s say intense. That day we were standing on the porch at his mother’s house. He raised a fist. He’d never done that before.” Kate fell silent. John waited quietly, giving her the space to not tell him. “I was amazed more than anything. I told him if he hit me it was over. He shoved me instead. I went backward down the steps and split my head open on the pavement.” She absentmindedly rubbed a spot on the back of her head. “Took me three days to get up the nerve to break up with him.”

“Three days?”

“Don’t judge.” She looked at him, “It was the hardest thing I ever did – until I left my New York life.” Kate looked away, back into the orange glow of the heating element. “You can’t imagine how hard it was. This boy I loved sat there in the emergency room, holding my hand, whispering to me, crying, begging, swearing on his very life that it had been an accident. It would never happen again. Didn’t I know how much he loved me?” Kate’s brow furrowed. “It would have been so easy to stay. He did love me. I never doubted that. Hell,” she said taking a swig from the bottle of beer she had set on the floor beside her, “I don’t doubt it right this minute. I was basically telling him that no – I didn’t trust him, I didn’t believe him, and that my feelings for him didn’t mean anything.” She looked at John again, “Do you understand?”

“No.” John looked at her steadily, “He was dangerous. That’s all you needed to know. He would have hit you eventually and the Marine Corps was not going to make him less violent.”

“I know that. When he reached out to push me, I saw a look in his eyes that scared me. And it wasn’t the first time he’d looked at me like that. Knowing it in your head, doesn’t make it any easier for your heart.” Kate shook her head a little. “Well, haven’t I gone and gotten personal again. Do you want another beer? There were only four in there.”

“I’ll get them.”

John helped her clean up the kitchen. When they were done, Kate returned to the foot of the bed and wrapped herself in the quilt. It was chilly in the house but not as bad as it could have been. Freezing rain fizzed against the roof.

It was only seven o’clock. John sat back down in the chair in the corner. Kate looked around the room. “Well,” she said, “before things get awkward, let’s get a couple things straight. This,” she waved at the sleeping bags on the bed, “is about staying warm. Everyone stays…zipped up,” she looked at him with that wrinkled nose expression. “And… I brought these.” She produced a deck of cards from her duffle bag.

“Understood….I brought this.” John retrieved the bottle of Scotch from his bag.

They settled down on the sofa bed across from each other. She sat at one corner with her back to the heat and he leaned against the sofa back at the opposite corner with his long legs stretched along the edge of the mattress. They played poker using an assortment of nails, washers and screws they found in a margarine container in the bottom of a tool box.

John remembered the last time he’d played poker with a beautiful woman. Zoe had beaten him handily. This time he was focused on not being distracted by a pretty face. And he was winning. It was almost pleasant here with Kate. He felt comfortable with her. Dangerously comfortable. There was a vague feeling of guilt about Zoe but they had been very clear with each other from the beginning that their relationship was not exclusive. John’s attention wandered with his thoughts and Kate started to win. It didn’t take long before she had most of the hardware piled on her side of the blanket.

Kate shuffled the cards lazily. It was her deal but she just sat there looking at him for a moment. Those green sparkling eyes seemed to look right into his head. “Tell me about your friends.”

“Tell you about them?”

“Yes, I mean we could finish the game but I’ve figured out how to read you and you aren’t paying much attention anyway.“ She reached for the bottle and divided the last bit of Scotch between their glasses. “She’s very lucky whoever she is.”

John was startled. “It isn’t what you think….Zoe and I-” He stopped at a loss for what to say.

“Zoe. That’s beautiful.”

“She and I-” John pinched the bridge of his nose, “We’re friends.”

Kate’s eyebrows raised expectantly, “Friends…” she encouraged. She was looking for more information.

How to explain his feelings for Zoe when he wasn’t sure himself? He was well aware that he was emotionally unstable. That loosing Jessica had unhinged him in a way that he could never fix. A relationship was out of the question, he had a hard enough time handling the few connections he did have. Not to mention the danger he would be putting Zoe in if they did pursue a relationship. Further complicating things was the way he felt here with Kate right now. “Yes.” He was stoic again though he didn’t realize it, “Friends,” he said.

“…with benefits - as the saying goes. Nothing wrong with that, John. I’m not judging.” Kate started scooping the hardware into the container. “So let’s not talk about Zoe. Tell me about…Harold?” 

“Kate,” John said patiently, “I can’t tell you about my associates. It would be dangerous.”

“For who? My life is already in danger and when you’re gone who would I tell? Besides I don’t want their addresses. I’m asking about _them_. You know all sorts of things about me…who are you people?”

So he talked, a little. He told her the John Warren cover story. Safe because the story was true without being real. Jessica, in the guise of the fictitious Alison, was part of that story and for some reason he found himself telling Kate about his loss. Not the details, just that she was gone. Kate looked so genuinely sad about that turn of events, he was afraid she would ask him questions about it, but she didn’t. He white-washed over Carter arresting him on the subway and Finch bailing him out, instead claiming that he had met Finch by accident and that they had gone to the police for help with a case, there-by meeting Carter and Fusco. He spoke of Carter with deep respect and admiration as both a detective and as a person. He complained about Fusco in general, and how Shaw kept trying to steal his dog, a Belgian Malinois named Bear. Kate listened attentively, only asking questions for clarification. 

“So you work for Harold, and your job is saving people.” It was a statement. She was turning the idea over in her head. “Strangers.”

“Yes.”

Kate considered, “how does he decide who to save? How does he find the people who need your help?”

“I’m sorry, Kate, I can’t tell you that.” John could tell she didn’t like his answer. But to his immense relief she accepted it.

Finally, he looked at the clock and suggested they get some sleep. John went outside to do a perimeter check while Kate washed up. When he came in from the icy rain, she was sitting on the end of the bed, rummaging through her bag, strangely quiet. “The stove is keeping it warmer in here than I thought it would. That was a good idea,” John said as he crossed to the bathroom door. But Kate didn’t answer.

When he came back out a few minutes later she was rubbing lotion onto her face and neck, eyes closed. A scent of summer flowers fought against the musty, smoky atmosphere of the room. Kate cupped her cheeks in her hands and rubbed her temples and forehead with her fingertips. This wasn’t just part of her normal routine, she was upset. John stood there, unsure of himself. She stopped and just held her face in her hands.

“Kate,” John nearly whispered, “Are you all right?”

She turned and looked at him, her face pale and tired. _She’s been pretending to be calm the whole time_ , he thought.

“Why me?” She asked.

“I don’t understand.”

“Why did Harold send you to save me? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It isn’t a question we ask,” John said, though that was only partly true. He had asked. Shaw had asked. But Harold never had a sufficient answer. Kate made a small resigned sound and looked away. He wasn’t helping. He wasn’t sure how to. “Everyone is relevant to someone,” John said. It was the answer that Harold always returned to and the only answer John cared to consider. He refused to believe they were merely satisfying the whims of a computer.

“That’s just it,” Kate said. “No one would miss me if I was gone. It would be a week at least before someone even wondered where I was enough to come looking.” Her eyes searched his face, “Why risk you for me? You have people who would miss you. Everyone I ever knew already thinks I’m dead. Isn’t that the definition of ‘irrelevant’?

John was at a complete loss. He had no idea why The Machine had chosen her. Why did the Machine choose anyone? It had, after all, chosen Elias. Why would a crime boss be any more important than any other person in danger that day? He didn’t know. He often wondered if there was something seriously wrong with their methods. But The Machine was all they had. Kate was another matter altogether. He might not be able to untangle his feelings for her, but he had no intention of letting her die. He sat on the corner of the bed farthest from her, “There are plenty of people who would miss you. I watched you today in town. I heard every conversation you had. I don’t know why you were chosen. But you are not irrelevant.” He started to reach out for her hand and stopped himself. She was relevant to him, but he didn’t want to think about that.

“I’m not sure you’re right. But I’m too tired to think about it right now,” Kate settled into her sleeping bag facing away from him, and pulled a quilt over herself. John put the other two blankets over her, picked up his sleeping bag and unzipped it. Kate turned over to look at him, “I thought I said no unzipping.” There was a mischievous lilt to her voice. She was putting on a brave face again.

“I’m sleeping over here.”

“Sitting up in the chair?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds comfy.” He couldn’t read her tone, again. He’d interrogated Al Qaeda operatives that he could read better than this woman. She was – infuriating. John settled into the safety of the chair and tried to doze off.


	7. Chapter 7

_kate_

“You need to sleep,” John announced about an hour and a half later. 

“So do you.” Kate said irritably. She was completely worn out, but couldn’t seem to drift off through the storm of her thoughts. Kate had only let her stress show for that brief moment, knowing that he couldn’t do his job if she insisted on having a breakdown, but the truth of the matter was that none of this made any sense. Kate had a feeling that while Harold instructed John on who to save next, Harold wasn’t the one making the ultimate decision. Worse yet, while she had complete faith in John’s ability to keep her alive, she was terrified of what might happen to him. This violently handsome man had already stopped one bullet for her, she couldn’t even contemplate him actually dying in the interest of her safety. She gave up on sleep and sat up, hoping to find a distraction, something to read or the deck of cards. 

“Are you warm enough?” John’s voice cut across her thoughts.

“I’m fine, that isn’t the problem. I don’t sleep well most nights. But now I’m just- scared. And if you must know,” Kate turned so she could see him in the light of the floor lamp he had left on, “it’s creepy to have you sitting there listening my insomnia.”

“I’m keeping watch,” John insisted defensively.

“That doesn’t make it any less creepy,” Kate gave up on the idea of reading and snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag but didn’t lie back down. She bent her knees and put her chin down on them. 

The silence stretched thin and for the first time it was not companionable. She thought she should say something, but she was very tired and afraid that she might cry. Besides, what was there to say?

“I think I can help you sleep,” John’s voice was uncertain.

“What do you mean?”

“If you trust me to be a gentleman, I think I can help you sleep,” he said getting up from the chair.

It was Kate’s turn to be uncertain, “What do you have in mind?”

“Well,” he lay down on the bed and pulled the unzipped sleeping bag over himself, “Come here.”

Kate stretched out next to him still wrapped in her sleeping bag. “You have my pillow.”

“You don’t need one. I meant…” He paused, “put your head on my chest.”

“What?” Kate laughed nervously.

“Do you usually sleep with the braid?”

“Actually no.” Kate sat up again, pulled the elastic off the end of the plait, and combed her fingers through the curls. She felt John run his own long fingers through her hair. Just once, but it made her breath catch and sent a shiver down her spine.

“Better?” he asked.

She just nodded, unsure of where this was going. He had said he would be a gentleman. Kate couldn’t see his features in the shadow created by the sofa back, but she guessed that she could send him back to his own corner and he would go. She lay back down, set her cheek on the Henley shirt he was wearing to sleep in. He let his arm curl around her. Uncomfortable with the situation as a whole she wasn’t sure if she should put her hand on his chest or curl it up against herself. Sensing her frustration, her took her hand, put it gently down on his shirt and covered it with his own. 

“Two things,” John’s deep voice resonated in his chest, “First, you are safe right here.” He squeezed her against him a little, “No one will get to you, ok?”

“Ok.” Her voice trembled the slightest bit. John read that as shivering from the cold and he tucked the quilt around her shoulders.

“Now. Can you hear my heart beat?”

With her ear pressed against his chest she could hear little else. “Why aren’t you wearing a vest?” She started to lift her head and he gently stopped her.

“I’m not expecting trouble until tomorrow. Harold said the roads are too bad to get here. My heart beat, can you hear it?”

“Of course,” The sound was steady and comforting.

“Focus on that sound, and trust me - you’ll fall sleep.”

Kate felt perfectly safe, but also completely confused. What was she doing in this situation? He really didn’t want anything other than this? Did she want more than this? As positive as she was that she could send him back to his chair, she was almost as positive that if she reached up and kissed him – _Let’s just not_ , she thought. He was going back to New York after the threat was over. Any feelings she might have for him were pointless. A one-night stand was not going to help. _Focus on something else._ Did she want to go back to New York? Back to being Maggie? If she did, would she see him there? Was that a trade that was fair to her? Fair to him?

“Kate.” John said quietly, “sleeping means you need to relax.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Stop thinking.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” 

“Why are you so sure this will work?”

“When I was a kid…I had nightmares,” John’s voice was tight. He paused and then assured her, “Just listen. You will sleep.”

Kate wanted to know what kind of nightmares he’d had. But she didn’t ask. She was very certain that he had given her that glimpse of himself to end the conversation, not start one. Kate tried to picture John as a child. Had he always been quiet and restrained, or was he a sunny and happy little boy? She couldn’t imagine him afraid of anything. Who had soothed him in his fears? His mother? A grandmother? A sibling? As she wondered about his childhood and thought about all the things she wouldn’t ask, she began to relax. Her breathing began to match John’s and she drifted away.

Kate was still half asleep when John slipped his shoulder from beneath her head. She thought she felt him press a light kiss to her temple and whisper, “Everything will be all right.” He tucked the covers around her and was gone. She stayed right where he had left her, enjoying the warmth of the sleeping bag, the scent of him on the pillow, and the dreamy place she found herself in. As she woke more fully to the smell of coffee, she became sure she had dreamed that little kiss.

Coffee. Most mornings she preferred tea, but occasionally all she wanted was a coffee. This was one of those mornings, but when she opened her eyes she saw John take a tea bag from his pocket, unwrap the sky blue packet, and drop it in a cup. She realized he must have taken it from her kitchen yesterday. For her. She had a whole package of tea in the food box, but he hadn’t known that. _He’s stuck with instant coffee, but he made sure I have the right tea._ Maybe that kiss hadn’t been a dream. Kate sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Sleep well?” John asked.

“Fine,” Kate tried to be nonchalant. She had slept better in John’s arms than she had in years. John raised an eyebrow. “Ok, so I slept like a…..”

“Log?”

“My dad used to say, ‘like a found kitten’.” She giggled, John looked at her skeptically. 

John handed her the cup of tea, and a blueberry muffin. She took it gratefully. She could make coffee later. “If you need milk, there’s a can of it in the box,” She made a face, “It’s better than nothing.”

“Black is fine.”

“You could put Tabasco in it,” Kate laughed.

John pretended to ignore her, picking up his coffee cup and somehow managing to balance the other blueberry muffin in the same long-fingered hand. “Stay here. I’m going outside to call Finch.”

“O. Kay.” She said, smiling and mocking his monotone.

He gave her a wry look as he turned the doorknob, “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

“N-No,” she said slowly. She was horrified by the very idea. What might she have said? And about who? She _had_ had a dream last night. A terrible one, Dennis with a gun, John bleeding on the snow-covered ground. Had she called John’s name as she had in the dream? Was he kidding? His face wasn’t as hard to read as she was sure he liked to think. It was all in his eyes. She decided he was pulling her leg. “I do not.”

John opened the door but before going through it he raised his eyebrows at her, “You sure?”

Her certainty faltered. “Did I say anything about you being a complete jackass?” she wrinkled her nose at him. 

“I’ll never tell.” Kate could hear him snicker to himself as he closed the door behind him.

She snuggled into the sleeping bag and sipped her tea. Apparently, he did have a sense of humor.


	8. Chapter 8

_john_

John stepped out into the cold of the morning. The open stove had contributed more heat to the cabin than he could have hoped. He made his way toward the lake, careful not to slip on the icy path. The world looked like it was made of glass and the sunshine cast the ice-covered trees in a sparkling brilliance. It was breathtaking. He didn’t usually notice things like that but now he found himself thinking that he should go back to the house and get Kate so she could see it too.

John shook his head. He had to get himself refocused. The sleeping arrangements had been a terrible mistake. Kate had in fact slept like a ‘found kitten’ as she had put it, but John hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Somehow his mission to keep her safe had reached a whole new level. He had spent half the night dozing, and half the night breathing in the scent of the lotion she had used before she went to bed. It reminded him of the flowers that had grown in the backyard in Washington where he grew up. They bloomed in early summer. They were purple and smelled wonderful and he couldn’t remember what they were called, but the scent had brought back memories of home.

Kate had not spoken in her sleep, but she had dreamed. At one point she woke him from a doze when she let out a gasp and clutched the fabric of his shirt. John had instinctively pulled her closer and kissed her hair. He whispered to her that she was safe, until the dream had passed. Had he completely lost his mind? He needed to focus on the mission. Keep Kate safe. Even from himself. Especially from himself.

John stood on the dock for a long time eating his breakfast and drinking his coffee. The surface of the lake was still frozen, but he looked down and caught his own reflection in a mirror of water that had pooled on the ice. John wondered, irrelevantly, what she saw when she looked at him. John pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose in a gesture that had become much more of a habit just in the last thirty-six hours. _Stay focused._ Finally he got Finch on the phone.

Harold didn’t have much to report, Dennis hadn’t left New York yet, so they still had some time to prepare. It seemed that Dennis’ orders to the guy John had tangled with had been to find Kate, not to hurt her. Dennis was saving that for himself. Pierce had told the man to return to Kate’s house and wait her return, but he hadn’t left his hotel room. The roads were too slick. Shaw was lying in wait at Kate’s house, so there was no reason to be concerned about him. 

By the time John had come back in the house, water had been heated, the bedclothes had been folded and set aside, and the dishes were done. After he washed up John put his vest on under a clean white shirt.

They spent the morning playing cards. Now that John was paying attention to the game, he was more difficult to beat, but Kate held her own. Kate insisted his tells were in his eyes, but he couldn’t read her as easily and it discomfited him. John checked in with Harold again while Kate made red beans and rice for lunch.

This time when John returned, he told her that Dennis was on his way and he was bringing another man, but they wouldn’t be a threat for hours. “After all they don’t have you to navigate for them,” he smiled, adding Tabasco to the already spicy dish. “This is good. Better even than the soup from last night.”

“I can see that.” Kate said, John looked slightly sheepish and she grinned at him. “Maybe I should change the focus of my blog to ‘cooking under duress’.”


	9. Chapter 9

_kate_

Later, John occupied himself by checking his weapons and Kate found a crossword puzzle book in the stack of magazines. She was wrapped in a quilt and huddled on the closed couch as close to the stove as she dared to get. It was unpleasantly cold in the cabin, but she was not going to complain.

“We need to talk about your ongoing safety,” John was unequivocal.

“Vermont is not that dangerous a place,” she kept her eyes on the crossword and deliberately changed the subject, “What’s an eight-letter word for ‘hand grenade hazard’?”

“I’m not always going to be here, Kate.”

She knew where the conversation was going. He had asked about a weapon yesterday. And before lunch he had taught her how to reach his friend, Harold, on the sat phone. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but he wanted her to be able to get help if things went bad. She tried again to deflect the line of thought. “It ends in an ‘L’.”

“Kate, I think you need a dog.”

“Do you?”

“Bear. He protects Harold when I am not there.” John shifted his shoulders, “You should have a dog.”

Kate hated this line of discussion. She didn’t want to talk about him leaving and she felt that she had been just fine without a gun and dog up until now. John was going to handle Dennis, and everything would be back to normal. She wanted to ask him to get her a vicious Pomeranian. But the look on his face was serious, even for him. “What kind of dog?”

“One that only follows your commands. A large dog that will be intimidating. Bear only follows commands in Dutch. Are you comfortable with a foreign language? You sang opera, aren’t those in Italian?”

“Many of them are in Italian,” Kate smiled, “but just because you can sing the words doesn’t mean you know what you’re saying, especially when you are only doing it as an effort to get your mother to love you.” Kate shrugged, “But, my roommate at New York University was from Italy. I spent a fabulous summer in Tuscany with Sophia her and her older brother, Tiziano.” She smiled dreamily, “although most of the words I learned from him would be inappropriate….I called him Tease, and not just because it was the first part of his name and he called me-” Kate trailed off when she saw John’s dark look. Kate straightened her face, “I mean – Yes, John, I’m familiar with Italian.” She stretched and stood up, “I like golden retrievers,” she said absently, “They’re adorable. Wait- ” She smiled wryly, “How about a wolf?”

Abruptly changing the subject, John asked, “Kate, why don’t you have a phone?”

She set aside the crossword book and met his gaze squarely, hands on her hips. In John’s all-business tone of voice she asked, “Who do I have to call?” John pinched the bridge of his nose. Kate found it nearly irresistible that he made such an effort to maintain his patience with her. “I do have a phone. A flip phone no less. It is only for emergencies, it is pre-paid and I keep it in the glove box of the truck.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, “And the last time I needed it I had to walk almost a mile to get enough bars to use it. Lucky for me, it was July.”

“Fair enough.”

He was quiet for a few minutes, but the silence was full of his need to say more. “We aren’t done, are we?” she asked.

“No, we aren’t.”

‘Fine,” Kate got up and stepped into the kitchen, “would you like some-”

With no warning, John crossed the room, grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. There was nothing sweet or funny about it. She managed to break his grip, spin away and attempt a wrist lock on him, but John was too well trained to let her get away with it. He was remarkably fast and ridiculously strong. She was confused by his sudden shift in mood and it scared her more than she wanted to admit, but she knew enough to stay calm. _Because I’m using my skills or because I don’t really believe he would hurt me?_ She wasn’t sure. While she was no expert, she knew a few important moves to get her out of tight spots. “What the hell, John?”, she said as he grabbed for her wrist and she immediately broke free, setting her foot so she could sweep him to the ground. Again, he anticipated her response and this time he lifted her off the floor and set her down a couple feet away. He reached for her throat and she decided she’d had enough, though she realized by then that he was testing her – and going easy on her to boot. She raised her right arm above her shoulder level and down across the hand that was reaching for her, his fingertips brushed her neck but he failed to grab hold. At the same time, she kicked him in the shin harder than she’d meant to. He was too tall for her to effectively reach his throat, so she pulled her arm back and curled the tips of her fingers under. She aimed for his solar plexus with her knuckles. He blocked the blow, engulfing her small hand in his. “Are we done?” she asked, irritably, “Or is someone actually going to get hurt?”

“We’re done. You’re no match for a well-trained opponent but you have the basic moves down. You didn’t let me get my hands on your throat.” He rolled his shoulders, “And I have a feeling I might lose an eye if I get you really angry at me.” John rubbed his shin.

“I was thinking of a target a bit lower.” She said pointedly. Kate realized she was trembling. “What made you think I could do that?”

“Yesterday, when I saw you with Alex.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Not consciously, which is good. Where did you learn?”

Kate told him how she had started taking self-defense and karate classes during college. The incident on her boyfriend’s porch had taught her not to be caught unaware by anyone. Instead of letting her skills atrophy during her marriage, the presence of Dennis kept her at it, at least casually. After the move to Vermont, she signed herself up for a more in-depth course. Kate wasn’t taking it seriously enough to become a black-belt, but she liked to know she had a fighting chance against an attacker.

Kate took a deep breath, still mildly irritated at his method of testing her skills, but realizing that attacking her outright was the best way to find out what she could do. Squaring off with her wouldn’t have told him anything. “I was going to ask if you wanted another cup of coffee. Now I think you can go back to sitting over there.”

“I have a better idea.” John said as he went out the door.

_I was right the first time. He’s crazy._

When he returned, he was holding a handgun, “Shrapnel,” he said.

“What?”

“Your crossword. The word is 'shrapnel'." John gave her an innocent look, “I was listening. Come on, I’m going to teach you how to fire a weapon.”

They made their way down the slope towards the lake edge. John had grabbed a bag of cans and bottles from the kitchen to use as targets. The sun was shining, and the ice was melting off the branches. John found a spot where they could set their targets on a downed tree.

“Ok, this is a Walther P99-“ John launched into a tutorial that Kate couldn’t follow. He showed her how to load and unload it, and used unfamiliar words like ‘rounds’, ‘stopping power‘, ‘double action’, and ‘safety’. Then he handed it to her.

She took it but didn’t touch the trigger. The gun felt awkward and unwieldy in her hand, and heavier than she had expected, “John, I-“

“-need to learn how to fire this weapon. Look,“ he turned the gun in her hand. This is the safety. The weapon is safe right now. You use your thumb here, and the safety is off. See red is hot,” there was a click, “now it’s safe.” She nodded. John stepped behind her and showed her how to tuck in her thumb, and use her off hand to support and keep her right hand steady. Kate concentrated carefully on his instruction, trying not to be distracted by his nearness, his hands enfolding hers, his voice deep and low in her ear, raising the hairs on the back of her neck and sending a delicious shiver down her spine. “All right,” he said, “now disable the safety.”

Instinctively, Kate pointed the gun at the ground first.

“Good. Aim at the Scotch bottle. I don’t expect you to hit it with your first shot, but I want you to feel it when you fire. Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull.”

Kate aimed carefully. And fired. The recoil wasn’t as bad as she had expected but the noise was terrifying. She let out a little scream. As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, she heard John laugh. A warm, lovely sound except that he was laughing at her. She had shut her eyes as she pulled, instead of squeezing, the trigger. Kate looked at him. The smile on his face was warm and genuine. She felt her heart squeeze a little. _He has no idea how handsome he is – none._

“That was my fault, I should have fired a round so you could hear it. Try again. Only this time, keep your eyes open. Then we’ll work on squeezing the trigger.”

It took three more tries to hit the Scotch bottle. When it disintegrated from the impact, the seriousness of the exercise truly hit home. John wanted her to point this weapon at a human being.

“That was good. Now try to hit the next one in the row.”

“I can’t,” She whispered. 

John turned toward her, his tone light, “You just did it.”

“I can’t shoot a person, John. That’s what you want me to be able to do and I can’t.” Kate engaged the safety and held out the gun for him to take. Her insides were shaking.

John grew serious again as he curled her fingers back around the weapon. “First of all, I do not _want_ you to shoot anyone. Ever. But someday, any day, you might be forced to. This is just like your self-defense class. I don’t want you to have to break an arm, or poke out an eye, but if you have to – you know how. Right?”

Kate nodded, resigned. She saw the sense of it, but the reality of shooting a person was terrifying.

“Second,” John continued, “I am not teaching you to kill someone. I don’t kill people, Kate. Not anymore. I want you to disable your enemy.” His eyes strayed from her face for a second when he said, “Killing a person….it changes you.”

Again, she had questions. And again, she kept them to herself.

“Third and most important. Do not point a weapon at a person if you don’t intend to pull the trigger. Ever. He might not believe you’ll do it, but you need to be sure. Understand?” Kate nodded again. Her throat felt tight and she was afraid she might cry. John straightened and indicated the targets. “All right, now shoot that bottle on the right.”

Kate took a deep breath and resumed the posture John had shown her, released the safety, and aimed at the bottle. She took another breath, let it out slowly, and squeezed. The bottle vanished. She aimed and hit the remaining four targets in only six shots. When she looked over at John she wasn’t sure who was more proud, him or her.

“You’re a natural,” he said. “So what I want you to do is aim at your enemies shoulder. Harold insists that I kneecap the enemy, but the shoulder is a larger target. In the very least you’ll disable his dominant hand. Then you get away,” he turned to her and made sure she was looking him in the eyes, “You run, understand?”

Kate nodded silently, still overwhelmed.

“All right, that’s enough for now. Let’s get back inside. Pierce and his friend will be here-“ John stopped and listened, “about now.” He took her hand and started leading her back towards the cabin. When they reached the porch, he stopped. “Stay inside. I’m going to try to get to them before they get anywhere near the house.” John reloaded the Walther. “Take this.”

Kate shook her head, “I won’t use it. You need it more than I do.”

“I have plenty of fire power. Don’t argue with me.” He put the gun in her hand and pushed her up the stairs. She turned to tell him to be careful, but he was already gone. 

For a moment, Kate stood in the middle of the main room trying to decide what to do, and where to hide. She locked the flimsy front door knowing it would do little good. Kate went into the bigger bedroom, closed the door, and rounded the bed. This side of the house was shaded by tall pines and this room was almost completely dark. She was shaking a bit, both from the cold and her fear.

As she waited there, she began to rethink her choice. There were better to places to hide. Under the bunks in the other bedroom would be better. There was a ladder strapped to the wall in there, she could climb up to the rafters. No, John won’t let Dennis get in here. She didn’t have to be scared. She could trust him to keep her safe. It seemed like a long time had passed when she heard someone try the front door. Kate caught herself, just before she called John’s name aloud.

“Kate, open the door,” it was a demand, not a request. And it was not John. It was Dennis. Kate stayed right where she was, her heart pounding. It was going to be fine. The door was locked. But she had been right the first time. The door was flimsy. She didn’t know if it was a shoulder or a kick but the next thing she heard was the door giving way.

Kate crouched in the in the darkness, holding the gun in her right hand, safety still on. She had no intention of pointing it at anyone. 

The door to the bedroom opened and the yellowy light from the main room fell across the intruder’s face. Dennis was average height, thin with dark hair and small deep-set eyes. He looked around, adjusting to the dimness. Kate held her breath and hoped, however futilely, that he would not see her crouched in the corner.

“Maggie?” his voice was soft as though he was trying to reassure her. She stayed stock still, hoping against hope that he was just fishing. That he couldn’t really see her. But her hopes were in vain, “Mags, it’s you. Have you missed me?”

Kate silently set the Walther on the floor, positive she wasn’t brave enough to fire it. W _here the hell is John?_ She wondered. Slowly she stood, “Dennis.” She tried to keep her voice steady. 

“It took me so long to find you,” his voice was a brittle accusation.

Kate struggled for calm. “I don’t know what happened to Hut, Dennis. All I know is that I didn’t kill him.”

“No, you didn’t. But you weren’t all that crushed to see him go were you?”

“What?”

“I know you didn’t really love him,” Dennis tucked the gun he was holding into the back of his pants and moved farther into the room, “but he loved you.” Kate wondered if she timed it right could she jump over the bed and get out the door. “He found you out. Hutton knew you knew.” Dennis rubbed his eyes as if exasperated, “He quit on me, Mags. He said he was done with me and was going to beg you not to leave him. Oh, Maggie, my love, he knew you were leaving, and he caved.” Dennis was at the end of the bed now. His face was ghoulish in the dim light. Kate was ready to try for the door. “So I had to kill him.”

Kate’s opportunity to escape slipped away with her grip on the conversation. What was he saying? Dennis had killed Hut? How was that even possible? Kate wasn’t sure what to think. Dennis was like some vicious animal cornering its prey. He eyes glittered as he looked her up and down. It making her skin crawl. “It was you?” she whispered.

“It was. He loved you, Maggie. Didn’t you know? More than he loved me,” Dennis took a step closer. Kate’s heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear Dennis’ voice. “I want to know why. What did you do to him to make him turn against me?” Kate was starting to see spots before her eyes. She couldn’t pass out. If she did, she was done. John was not coming to save her.

Dennis’ hand shot out like a striking snake and grabbed Kate’s throat. She knew what to do to break the hold, but she was too astonished to react. Dennis pushed her back against the wall, banging her head. “Why you!” he shrieked in her ear and banged her head against the wall again. His grip on her throat tightened. Kate couldn’t breathe. He held on with one hand while the other one touched her hair, the side of her face. She tried to pull away from his touch, his hand were cold, clammy, nightmarish. His fingers found the zipper of her jacket and he whispered in her ear. “We’re going to find out together.”

The horror of that statement was enough to bring her to her senses. And there was no waiting for John. She lifted her arms above her head and brought them down across his arms, breaking his hold. He was practically standing on top of her, so instead of trying to kick him she stomped her hiking boot down on his instep as hard as she could. His dress shoes provided little in the way of protection and she thought she heard a crunch. Dennis stepped back and bent forward reaching for his foot out of instinct. “You bi-“

Kate didn’t let him finish. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, and pulled his face downward into her rising knee. Dennis’ nose broke with a satisfying sound. Then she shoved his shoulders to tip him over the corner of the bed, sending him sprawling across the floor.

Kate took a couple deep, rasping breaths, and air flooded back into her lungs. There was a strange heavy pain in her throat. She dropped down, reached into the dark corner and picked up the Walther where she’d let it drop. The safety was still on and she pointed it at the floor.

When Dennis gained his feet, he had his gun pointed at her.

Kate raised the Walther and aimed it at Dennis. The room was so small that if either of them fired they weren’t going to miss. Outside, there were two loud pops. Gunfire.

“Well, it’s just me and you now, Mags, my dear. You aren’t the only one with friends. That was the end of yours.”

Kate didn’t want to believe him. John was very capable. He was wearing his vest. But if he had been shot, she needed to get to him, get to the sat-phone and find help. She took a deep breath. Her insides were cold and shivery, but her hands were perfectly steady. She was holding the weapon exactly as John had taught her. Kate pressed the safety. She pointed it at Dennis. At his face. She was angry and scared and just wanted to end this. End him. She thought of John’s warning about how killing someone changed you. Kate adjusted her aim. The shoulder of his gun arm. _I don’t want to shoot you. Please don’t make me shoot you._ “I will pull the trigger if I have to. Drop the gun, Dennis.” Her throat hurt from where he had grabbed her, and her voice sounded raw and ragged.

“You aren’t going to shoot me, Maggie,” Dennis smirked.

“You don’t have to believe me. Only I have to be sure,” Kate whispered almost to herself, summoning her courage.

“Mags,” he snickered, “you don’t have it in you. Put it down.”

Kate stared at Dennis’ right shoulder and very deliberately _squeezed_ the trigger.

The shot was so much louder in the house than it had been outside. Had she heard two shots? Had she pulled the trigger twice? There was a spray of blood and Dennis fell to the floor. She heard a broken scream. _Is he dead? He’s dead and I killed him. I had to. He was going to kill me. He wouldn’t put his gun down. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. What did I do? I killed him. I killed him!_ Then John was there. He took the gun away from her and his big hands wrapped around her upper arms. He was bending down to look her right in the eye and she realized all those thoughts were actually pouring out of her aloud, and her ravaged voice was rising in panic. “Kate,” John’s voice cut through her terror. “Kate! Did he hurt you?” She shook her head, there was a bump on the back of her head, and she’d have bruises on her neck for almost a week, but that wasn’t what John meant. “I-I- I’m ok,” she was whispering now, it hurt so much to speak, “John…you told me…you said don’t point it unless….don’t point it…..I…John…I killed him.” Her eyes were brimming, and she was starting to panic again. She turned to look at the place where Dennis had been standing.

John took her face in his hands and wouldn’t let her look. “Look at me, Kate, and breathe. You didn’t kill him. You did just what I told you to do.”

“I had to, John. I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears spilling onto her cheeks.” I’m so sorry.”

John pulled her close, Kate’s arms slipped under his coat and she pressed her face to his chest.

"I killed him, Kate.” His voice came out raggedly, “I did. You shot him in the shoulder, just like I told you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” Despite the bulk of the vest he was wearing she could hear his heart pounding against her cheek. Somehow that unnerved her even more. 

“Are you shot?” She rasped through her tears. Her hands roamed across his back.

“No, I’m ok.” He took a strangled, somewhat shaky breath. “You did good, Kate.” John stood there holding her, her face turned away from the scene on the floor, for what seemed like forever, but not long enough.

Eventually, Kate heard a vehicle park and someone enter the cabin. She gripped two fistfuls of the back of John’s shirt. He squeezed her a little tighter and said, “It’s ok, it’s just Shaw.”

“Nice to see you too, Reese.” Kate heard a voice that was almost robotic, “well you made quite a mess in here. She ok?’

“She’s all right.” John replied, “I just didn’t want her to see-‘

“She’s not a child, John….Hold on, I got it.”

Kate heard a brief flurry of noises, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the faded yellow bedspread pull off the bed. “Kill shot?’

“Me” said John

“And this?”

“Her.”

“Broken nose?

“Also her.”

“He hurt her?”

“No.”

“Nice job,“ replied Shaw, “Ok, ready?”

Kate started to shake again. The man on the floor, her brother-in-law, was truly dead. 

John let her go, “Shaw’s going to take you outside.” 

“Kate.” Shaw was a little taller than her, dressed completely in black, and had dark hair and deeply intense brown eyes. She was beautiful, even with her severe ponytail and impassive expression. “You’re not going to freak out on me, ok? I just told Reese you aren’t a baby.” Kate nodded. Shaw was carefully positioned so Kate couldn’t see the body on the floor. “Ok girl, just look at me,” she took Kate’s hand and guided her through the room to the door. Kate followed without argument and without looking back at John or down at the floor, but from the corner of her eye she could see a splatter of blood on the wall. She blinked back tears and heard Shaw say, “Uh, uh, no crying. Bad asses don’t cry.”

Kate smiled weakly. When they got out on the porch Shaw very deliberately shut what was left of the broken door behind them. “I know what you told Reese. But now I’m going to ask. Did that guy hurt you?”

“He grabbed my throat and banged my head against the wall. But he didn’t…..I fought him off.” It hurt to talk

“Good job.” Shaw touched the back of Kate’s head gently and asked her some questions about her vision and dizziness, then looked at the fingermarks on her neck.

“My voice?” Kate asked in an apprehensive whisper.

Shaw touched Kate’s throat gently, she obviously had medical training and it put Kate at ease. “You’ll be alright. Just take it easy for a while.”

Another car pulled into the clearing and two people, a lovely black woman and a ruggedly built white man, got out. Shaw and Kate went out to meet them halfway. “Party’s over. What took you guys so long?” Shaw said.

“My partner decided to head the bad guys off at the pass and got us lost instead,” the woman’s voice had a streetwise tang. She had large expressive eyes, and an air of calm confidence.

“We weren’t lost. I knew exactly where we were,” said the man defensively. His thick accent sounded more Boston than New York. He had a melon face and his eyes were small but sparkled with good humor, “We just weren’t where we were supposed to be.”

“Sounds ‘lost’ to me,” Shaw replied, “Carter, Fusco, this is Kate. She held her own with the S.O.B. that was out to kill her, and none the worse for wear. She doesn’t even have a concussion.” Kate felt very proud that she had earned a compliment from this strangely cold woman.

“And the other guy?” Carter asked.

“Dead.” Shaw’s lack of concern seemed almost flippant.

“Glasses isn’t going to want to hear that,” said Fusco. 

"John can’t just let me arrest them, can he?” Carter said irritably.

Shaw turned back to house. “I’m on clean-up.”

“And Wonderboy?” Fusco asked. 

“He’s fine,” Shaw shrugged, “if you don’t count the arrow in his heart.”

“What?” asked Carter. Shaw kept walking toward the house but threw her hands up in a gesture of exasperation.

Carter and Fusco looked at each and Carter raised an eyebrow. Fusco shrugged and gallantly took Kate’s hand. “You don’t have to stand out here in the cold. My car’s warm, come with me.”

Fusco settled Kate in the passenger seat of the car, but it was Carter that got in on the driver’s side. “Hey, you alright?”

Kate nodded and rubbed the bump on her head. “I’m ok. I just want this to be over with so life can be boring again, you know?” She was still struggling to talk above a whisper.

“Yeah, I know. My life hasn’t been normal since I met these guys.” Her smile told Kate that Carter didn’t mind as much as she might, “Ok, why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Kate hesitated, “I’m not really sure what happened. I shot Dennis, I know that much. John said he’s the one that killed him.” Her throat hurt, her head hurt, she was so tired. Kate put her face in her hands then pushed her hair back out of her face with both of them.

“John wouldn’t lie to you about something like that. Start with what you are sure of and we’ll figure out the rest.”

There wasn’t much to figure out. John had come into the cabin and seen Dennis pointing a gun. John couldn’t see Kate from where he was. He shot Dennis in the head at nearly the same moment Kate had shot him in the shoulder, right where she had aimed.

Kate waited in Fusco’s car while the others exchanged information, planned their next moves, and packed Kate and John’s things back in John’s car. Kate watched them together. They were more than a team. They were a chosen family. Chosen by who was the question. The mysterious, and suspiciously absent, Harold? Or someone higher up the chain than that?

Finally Fusco came back to the car and opened the door. “Miss Halifax.”

“Just Kate,” she replied.

“Kate, John’s going to take you home,” he said, reaching out a hand. “You know you really did ok. Wonderboy said you’ve never even touched a gun before today. We should put you through the police academy. We got a couple guys on the force that couldn’t hit water if they fell out of a boat.”

“Wonderboy?”

“Yeah, you know, the Big Guy. You’ve met him. He steps in front of bullets for complete strangers, and lives to make my life miserable the next day.”

He opened the door of John’s car for her. “Thank you, Detective.” Kate took his hand, “Thank all of you for everything.”

“Call me Lionel. And you’re welcome. I hope we never have to cross paths again, if you know what I mean.”

The drive back was quiet. It was dark and John was trying to navigate his way through the maze of dirt roads. Kate spoke only to whisper directions. It was a terrible effort to talk, and what could she possibly say? ‘Thank you,’ seemed trite. 

Finally, they got to the house and brought their things in. John made no comment when Kate grabbed both bags from the back seat. She dropped hers in the mudroom and put John’s on the foot of the day bed. John set the food box down on the kitchen island, then stood awkwardly in the living room with his hands on the back of her chair. He looked almost as uncomfortable as he had the first time he’d been there. Had that only been two nights ago?

“I don’t know how to say thank you, John. There really aren’t words.”

“No need,” he was stoic again.

“Of course there is,” she swallowed painfully. “I’m going to take a proper shower,” she said running her fingers through her hair, “And then I’ll cook something that didn’t come out of a can. I’ll be ten minutes or so. Be comfortable, start the wood stove, find some music. There’s more Scotch in this cabinet. Pour me one with ice and I’ll be right out. There’s a couple different labels in there - surprise me.”

Kate showered quickly. She was feeling better every moment. The water was almost too hot to bear, and it washed the warmth back into her bones and the ugliness of the encounter with Dennis down the drain. She was safe now.

As she rinsed the shampoo from her hair, Kate did a mental inventory of the contents of the fridge. She was excited about cooking for someone again and settled on Saltimbocca. 

Kate came out of the bathroom to the sound of Ella Fitzgerald’s _Someone to Watch Over Me_. The fire had been lit and was crackling away merrily, but she didn’t see John anywhere. “John?” she walked into the kitchen. He wasn’t there either. “John? Where are you?” She asked aloud, but she already knew.

Kate made her way back to her chair. There was a glass of Scotch on the table by her chair. One glass, with ice. And next to it was the Walther.

John was gone.

Thunderstruck, Kate sat down and pulled the lavender throw up around her. She recalled Shaw’s comment at the house, “He’s fine, except for the arrow in his heart.” Well this was a hell of a way to show he cared. Kate curled up in the chair, the weapon in one hand the Scotch in the other.

She sat there for a long time, staring at the fire. She had wanted life to go back to the way it had been before he showed up. Hadn’t she? So here she was. Kate hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been until he wasn’t there to talk to. 

John had told her that he didn’t know why they got orders to save one person over another. There were so many people who needed their help, sometimes the choice of who to save seemed random at best. What did John and his friends have to gain by saving her, then disappearing from her life?

She supposed the real question was what did she have to gain from getting another chance? She didn’t need to be Maggie hiding in Kate’s skin anymore. She could just be Kate. 

As Saturday night turned into a lonely Sunday morning, she fell asleep with the empty glass in her hand, and the Walther in her lap, wondering about what it really meant to ‘save her life’.


	10. Chapter 10

**Intermission**

_lionel_

Lionel pulled the car into the driveway of Kate’s house. It had been a long, exhausting, non-negotiable trip, but he was finally here. At least it was a nice day. A beautiful May day. The sky was a perfect blue, the grass was green, and he rode with the windows part way down. Lionel didn’t know what had gone on between Kate Halifax and Reese that day in March, but he thought Wonderboy had been back in New York suspiciously fast. Shaw’s comment about an arrow in John’s heart had certainly seemed true at the time. Usually the Big Guy’s emotions were so buried you wondered if he felt anything at all. But that day had been different. Reese could have been wearing a sign that said this lady was special. Lionel didn’t want to consider that John had just walked out on Kate, but Reese’s recent behavior and the fact that Lionel was making this trip instead of him made that possibility the most likely one. 

Right now, he just hoped she was home. John had given him strict instructions, and Lionel wanted to get the job done and get back on the road.

Lionel got out of the car and retrieved a box from the backseat. He was relieved to hear music coming from the house through the screen door. Someone, presumably Miss Halifax, was singing along. Even he could tell her voice was something special. He listened for a minute. It was an old song, from the seventies. “ _Oh, oh, oh it’s magic, never believe it’s not so._ ” She laughed out loud and sang on, “I _love my sunny day, dream of far away, dreaming on my pillow in the morning._ ” She sounded so happy. He smiled, suddenly glad the Big Guy had sent him. Lionel wanted to just stand here and listen to her for the rest of the afternoon. “ _Leaning on my pillow in the morning….light_.” She giggled. Aware that he was eavesdropping on her and feeling a little guilty, he knocked on the screen door. 

The singing stopped abruptly, the music volume lessened, and then she appeared at the door. Kate was even prettier than he remembered. The only other time he’d seen her had been a long day for everyone involved. That day she’d been cold and scared and bundled up. Now, in a light green dress with little flowers on it, she looked like an elf or a fairy or something. The kind of woman you only see in a kid’s book. _She looks like a meadow_. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her eyes sparkling bright. _Reese left her behind?_

“Hello?” Kate said folding her arms and leaning against the door jamb.

Lionel realized he’d been standing there staring at her like an idiot. “Miss Hali-…um…Kate?”

“Lionel!” Recognition dawned and Kate’s face lit up, “What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you. Sometimes I think I dreamed the whole thing.” She seemed genuinely delighted that he was there. It made him feel good.

“Kate, good to see you, too. I have this for you and something else in the car.” He handed her the box he was holding and turned back down the steps, “Oh, but don’t open that one yet. I’ve got the real surprise here.” Lionel felt clumsy all of a sudden. He remembered what Shaw had said about an arrow in Wonderboy’s heart. That’s what Kate’s smile had felt like. And Lionel realized why John had returned to New York so quickly. If he hadn’t left then – he would still be here.

Kate’s eyes lit up again when Lionel put the Siberian Husky puppy in her arms. A gray and white ball of fur with deep blue, intelligent eyes, his face was free of the markings that sometimes gave huskies a sinister look. This one looked like a wolf. “Lionel,” she breathed, “thank you so much.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, crushing the wriggling pup between the two of them. _She smells like a meadow,_ he thought.

“Um, you’re very welcome - but he’s not from me. That’s Reese. Tell you the truth I wish I’d thought of it. Wonderboy’s a pretty smooth guy.”

“No. He isn’t.” He words were flat and final. John had hurt her all right. “If he’s so smooth, he would have come himself.”

“Mr. Sunshine? No way. Reese isn’t exactly in touch with his feelings. Besides he has me to do his bidding,” Lionel was angry, but tried not to show it, instead turning Kate’s attention to the box he had brought. “Here, there’s a card and some things you’ll need for the puppy.”

“Please tell me he’s housebroken.”

“Of course, Reese is nothing if not thorough. I have a crate and some bedding still in the car.”

“Does this guy have a name?” She asked, kissing the puppy’s head and reaching for the card among the others items, dishes for food and water, a leash, some puppy food, a toy, a book on training an attack dog.

“No. Wonderboy said you could name him.”

“I should name him….Fusco. It’s good strong name and you did drive him all this way,” she smiled at him again, and another arrow pierced his heart.

“Only if you want our mutual friend to make my life even worse. Maybe you should name the dog after him.”

Kate held the puppy up and looked at him as if considering. “I don’t think ‘Jackass’ really suits him, do you?”

Lionel laughed, but it wasn’t funny. Kate tucked the pup back under her chin and reached for the envelope. It was a birthday card. She read the inside, her brow furrowed, and she sighed. She buried her face in the pup’s neck and for a second Lionel thought she was going to cry. He was not prepared to deal with that. But she laughed instead. A short, resigned laugh with no trace of humor in it. Without looking at him Kate handed Lionel the card.

Inside was a list of commands for the puppy. In Italian. And a feeding schedule. No personal note. John hadn’t even signed his name. Lionel was stunned.

“I’m sorry. This was a mistake. He was trying to do something nice – I think - he’s just no good at it.” _Why am I making excuses for him? Even I’m not this stupid._

“It’s ok, Lionel, really.” She hugged the pup tighter, and brushed her cheek against his fur. “If nothing else it proves he’s thinking about me.” The puppy squirmed to be let down, but Kate snuggled him closer. “Can I get you something? Can you stay?”

“I better not. It’s a long way back to New York,” Lionel headed for the door.

“What did you have for lunch?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“You had a bag of chips and a soda, or some awful thing you got in a drive-through. I’m making you a decent lunch.”

What could he say? She was right about the bag of chips. He had left New York at seven in the morning with instructions not to leave the dog in the car by himself and not to feed him fast food. He could use a break. Kate had put the puppy on the floor and was filling his water dish. “You said there was a crate in the car? Bring it in and I’ll make some lemonade and a couple sandwiches. I just finished making potato salad for a party I’m going to tomorrow. I think it needs a quality check.”

While Kate made lunch Lionel brought in the crate, and unpacked the box. The puppy explored his surroundings briefly but preferred to stay near Kate. She sang along to the Juice Newton’s _Queen of Hearts_ , but some of her joy was gone. She said he had caught her ‘slumming’ and offered to change the music to something he liked. “That’s just a list of those songs everyone secretly loves but would never admit to. They just make me smile.” He told her it was fine, then found himself humming along to _The Pina Colada Song._

They took their lunch outside to a table under the trees. Kate tied the dog’s leash to the picnic table, afraid he would wander away. But the dog seemed perfectly content to stay at Kate’s feet. It was so pleasant here. The breeze made a sound like running water through the trees. A family of ducks floated on the pond. Everything was so amazingly green.

As they ate Kate and Lionel settled into comfortable small talk about their lives. Lionel spoke about his son and how he was doing in school. Kate asked after Carter and Shaw. Then talked about how Kate was conducting private cooking lessons here at the house and assisting the café owner in town with catering jobs. By some unspoken agreement neither of them mentioned Reese.

Finally, after an hour or so it was time to go. “Lionel,” Kate said as he reached the stoop. “Tell John…..just ‘Thank You’.”

“Yeah, I will.” _And a few choice words of my own_.

“One other thing.” Kate said. She set the puppy in the box by the door that held her boots. She pulled Lionel to her in a bone crushing hug, and gave him a soft sweet peck on the lips. “Thank you too, Lionel.”

“My pleasure,” Lionel felt clumsy again. He needed to be on his way.

“Drive safe.” Kate said as she grabbed up the puppy who had found his way out of the box and was intent on the door.

“I will.” Lionel walked back to the car and got in. He pulled out of the driveway and headed down the road muttering a streak of expletives under his breath. Things he knew he’d never say to Reese’s face.

It was going to be a long drive home. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Part Two**

_kate_

Kate pulled the truck into the driveway just far enough to get off the road. Cold, hard December rain beat the windshield and she had bags of groceries to get into the house. She had gone far afield today to stock up on some things it was hard to get locally. Kate set the first load of bags on the mudroom floor and left the door open a crack so the dog could come out. Kate grabbed her purse and the other two bags and managed to slam the door of the pick-up. The dog came bounding out the door, relieved himself, and headed back into the house. Usually she had to call him to get him back inside even when it was raining. 

Kate moved the groceries to the kitchen island and started unpacking. The dog was nowhere in sight. Odd. “Casey,” She called. “ _Vieni!_ ” He appeared at the door between the living room and kitchen but no farther, shifting his feet and whining. Something was very wrong. She retreated to the mudroom and pulled the Glock from her purse. Casey retreated to the main room. Kate stepped cautiously through the arch. The curtains were drawn against the cold, so the room was dark. The gun was in her right hand, safety off, finger lightly touching the trigger. She hit the light switch with her left hand. The sconces on either side of the kitchen arch lit half the room. There had been a number of changes to this space since John had come and gone from her life. In the middle of the room, a coffee table and a long couch had joined the oversized chair. A full-sized keyboard occupied one corner, where she could practice not only for ‘helping out with the church music’, but also for the upcoming Winter Concert at the high school. 

Kate’s eyes swept across the room and her heart leapt to her throat. She managed to hold back a scream. 

There was a man sitting in her chair. He was unshaven and wearing a leather jacket, jeans and combat boots. _This is why you got another gun to carry._ The thought was comforting. 

The weapon John had left her was up in the loft, under her pillow with his ruined shirt from the night he’d crashed into the fence. She pointed her weapon at the man, “All right, whoever you are, get out now or I _will_ shoot you.”

The strangeness of the scene was just beginning to occur to her. Casey, instead of attacking the intruder as he had been trained to do, was sitting on the floor next to him, comfortably in petting range. The man just sat there staring. Casey was whining. Then he let out a small, almost hesitant bark. It took Kate a few more seconds to realize, “John? You have got to be kidding!” she took a deep, shaky breath. “You scared the hell out of me.” She lowered the gun. Casey set his head on John’s knee. “Forget it, dog. He isn’t staying. Get up and get out, John. I don’t know what stupid game you are playing but you are the one who walked out of here without a word!” Her voice had risen in frustration, but John just sat there like a statue. The look in his eyes was chilling, the darkness of the well risen to the top, his body motionless. _Am I hallucinating?_ She looked at the dog. _If I am, so is Casey._ Fear flooded her then. Something was terribly wrong, but she couldn’t even guess what. Now that she thought about it, the strangest thing about his behavior was that he was sitting here in the dark and cold. How long had he been here? His hair wasn’t wet, and it had rained most of the day. “John?” she said, calmer now, “what’s wrong?” He simply stared. The strong, confident man that had saved her life last March wasn’t even there. Now she noticed the bottle of whiskey in his right hand. It was about half full. She briefly considered taking the bottle from him but decided against it. Instead Kate sat on the arm of the couch, watching John just stare into space, unsure what to say or do. She glanced over at the clock and realized that ten minutes had gone by while they sat and stared. 

“Ok, stay there. When you are ready, come talk to me.” She got up and went back through the kitchen and out the door. Casey stayed where he was, head on John’s knee. Guarding him or comforting him, she couldn’t tell.

As she pulled the truck into the barn she saw John’s Audi A8, parked in the same place she had parked it last March. She started up the driveway, then stopped. On a hunch she walked back to John’s car and looked through the window. There was a duffle bag on the back seat. She took the bag, briefly considered popping the trunk, discarded the idea, and made her way back up through the worsening storm to the house. She had just gotten to the door when a car pulled into the driveway. It was Lionel. She dropped John’s duffle on the mudroom floor and met Lionel at the car with a hug.

“Is the Big Guy here?” he asked.

“Yes. Lionel, what is going on?’”

Lionel looked at the house and then at her. “Can we talk in the car?”

“Of course.”

The car was warm and pleasant. “God, Lionel, are you alright?” Kate asked. Fusco’s face was pale, he had a cut on his forehead and some the fingers of his left hand were wrapped in bandages.

“It was awful.” He started, and then stopped. Kate stayed quiet. She was unnerved by the way John and Lionel were completely unable to cope with whatever had happened to them. What could possibly hurt them this way? “Carter….She was…..killed.” When Kate gasped, Lionel took a deep breath. “Shot by a piece of shit bad cop.” He paused again, “Died in John’s arms.”

“Lionel,” Kate took his hand, “I’m sorry.”

“She was better than all of us, you know?” They were quiet for a few minutes. “Harold sent me to chase John down and make sure he didn’t do anything too destructive. I’m here to bring him home if I can.”

"He’s just sitting in the house, drinking and staring into space. He won’t even speak to me.”

“Is he bleeding?”

“What?”

“He was shot by the same piece of crap that got Carter. Been in a hospital bed for days. He nearly did himself in going after the guy. It was…bad. Real bad. We managed to get him back to bed but yesterday he got up and took off before we even knew he could stand up again.”

Kate closed her eyes for a moment. It was all too terrible. She took a deep breath, “Ok, what do I need to know?” 

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not going back with you. Not yet.” Lionel took a breath to interrupt. “Don’t,” said Kate, “He came here for a reason. He’s staying until he’s ready to leave. Now what do I need to know about his injuries?”

“Look, Kid, Reese has gone completely off the reservation. Some of the things he’s done, just in the last week….He’s drinkin’? I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

“He won’t hurt me,” Kate was positive this was true.

“Not on purpose, no,” Lionel granted her that much, “but men do stupid things when they’re drunk. Trust me, I know.”

“And if he doesn’t want to go with you? Are you planning to beat up a wounded man and drag him back to New York?”

“You think I can’t take Reese?” he sounded offended and unsure at the same time.

“Sweetie, if he’s as hurt as you say, right now I could take Reese. He’s a grown man, Lionel. Harold doesn’t get to have him back just because he wants to.”

Lionel considered. “Ok. Ok. Two bullet wounds. One round took a chunk out of his left shoulder. The one you’re worried about is the one in his abdomen, right side.” Lionel pointed to the spot on his own body. “It’s bad. It almost killed him...Look, Shaw’s a doc--

“No, Lionel. I can handle it.”

Lionel’s phone rang, “It’s Glasses.” He looked at Kate as though weighing his options and answered the call. “Yeah?....Sure I found him, you think I won my detective badge in a poker game? .…Kate Halifax, yeah….No….No….Kate’s going to take care of him….You can try talking to her, but she’s not playing ball. Speaking of stubborn, is Miss Mayhem there? ….Kate needs to talk to her.” Lionel listened for a minute. ”Look, way I see it we have two choices. We give Miss Halifax her way, or I have to bring our boy home in the trunk – he might even still be breathing when I get him there…..Thank you.” Lionel handed the phone to Kate. “It’s Shaw, for you.”

Kate took the phone. “Shaw?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah.”

“Lionel said you can tell me how to take care of John. How to care for his wounds and what to look for if he’s getting worse.”

“No problem.“ Shaw explained everything Kate needed to know. How often to change John’s bandages, how to make sure the wounds were clean, and the signs of infection. “Lionel, will give you a number to call me if you need me. Good luck, Kate.” There was a click and Shaw was gone.

Kate gave the phone back to Lionel. “Thanks. I promise I’ll call if I need help. She said you can give me a number so I can reach her.”

Lionel took a small pad of paper from his jacket pocket and wrote two numbers down on it. “Here, that’s me and that’s Shaw. Now you better get back in there. I’ve got to get to the hotel before I’m stuck here overnight. As it is, I may need an ark.”

“You won’t come in?”

“I better not. I like my face the way it is, but I’ll check with you before I head back, ok?”

“Thank you, Lionel,” Kate leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, my turn to be the hero. Come on, I gotta go.”

Back inside, Kate hung up her jacket and checked on John. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t moved a muscle. Before trying to talk to him, she calmed herself by setting the house to rights. Her emotions were a tangle that squeezed her heart and made her head hurt. All of the feelings she had for John came flooding back. Stretched over those feelings was the hurt of his leaving. Then the big question. Why, of all the places in the world he could have gone, had he come here?

She put away the groceries, then called Andrea, a woman who came to the house for cooking lessons, and cancelled that night’s lesson, citing a small family emergency. Next, she took John’s duffle into the massive bathroom with its dressing area. She cleared the top of her vanity table and put his things there instead, hanging his shirts on the nearby pegs. One wine red button-up that got a hanger and a couple darkly colored Henleys. The rest of his clothes - another pair of jeans, some blue and black t-shirts, and the loaded handgun she found at the bottom of the bag, she left as they were. Kate got out a couple towels and washcloths and set them on the glass table top next to his shaving bag. She put the duffle on the dressing table chair and set it against the wall under the shirts. It was a delicate vintage piece and she was afraid if he tried to sit there he would break it, so she grabbed a kitchen chair instead.

Out in the main room, John still sat like a statue. Casey was now lying at John’s feet with his head on John’s shoes. Kate found the situation with her dog both cute and irritating, and she still wasn’t ready to negotiate terms with John. It was almost as if he were unable to move. She wondered how he’d managed to make it all the way here.

Kate looked around the room. The daybed didn’t need to be remade, but she wanted to offer John a little privacy. Tucked behind the spiral stair there was a trifold screen, closed up and leaning against the wall. Kate had fallen in love with it at the antique shop but once she had gotten it home, she wasn’t sure what to do with it. It was translucent white with a pattern of black branches and pink cherry blossoms on it. Everywhere she had set it up, it had looked wrong. Now, arranged across the room, just so, it hid the daybed and created at least the illusion of a private space.

Last she went to the mudroom and pulled a first aid kit off the top shelf. She carried it into the main room and set it down on the blanket chest she used as a coffee table. Kate snapped her fingers and Casey looked up at her. “ _Vai al letto_ ,” she commanded, and Casey moved reluctantly to his bed, putting his head on his paws so he could keep an eye on them. Kate sat in front of John on the blanket chest. “John,“ she said quietly. His eyes blinked but he didn’t look at her, he just stared at some distant point. “Lionel was here.” She thought she saw a momentary hardening of John’s features but his eyes stayed the same. Kate took a deep breath and dove in.

“I’ll be straight with you John, I’m not thrilled to see you. You can stay….but you have to help me out. You aren’t allowed to die in my house.” Kate’s voice wavered and she tilted her head back to keep herself from crying. He looked so lost. “I need you to do a few things for me, ok?” She reached out and touched his hand. His fingers were warm but unresponsive. He did however, take a breath. “You need to bathe. Shaving is…optional. Your things from the car are already in the bathroom. I want you to eat. I will eat in the kitchen, if you want to join me you can. If you don’t, I’ll leave a plate for you in the fridge and you can eat alone. You can keep the bottle. There’s more in the cabinet. But if you’re a mean drunk…..I’ll-“ she started to say ‘I’ll shoot you myself’ but she couldn’t get it out. “I’ll call the Sheriff.

“Most important, I need to change the dressings on your wounds. I talked to Shaw. She told me what to do.” Kate was sure his eyes had flicked this time. But there was no telling what that meant. And it wasn’t as though she could make him comply. “In return for letting me keep you alive I promise two things. You can stay as long as you want. And I will never ask you to talk about it.” His eyes closed and he took a swallow from the bottle. “Please John.” He set the whiskey down on the table next to him and, still staring in to the distance, stood to take off the leather jacket. Kate could see a small dark stain on the front of his navy blue dress shirt. John sat back down on the edge of the chair and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. She stayed still and quiet for a moment. Kate considered this progress, and she didn’t want to push. Finally, she took his right hand and unbuttoned his shirt cuff. Putting that hand back where it had been, she did the same to his left. Gently she pushed back against his right shoulder to sit him up, “I’m not taking no for an answer.” At least he was making eye contact with her now. “I need to see your stitches, or you need to die somewhere else.” He brushed her hands away, set the handgun he’d tucked in the back of his pants next to the bottle and took off his shirt. His black undershirt had a larger stain on it, and Kate’s stomach flipped over. A little bleeding might be ok. But if he’d popped his stitches, she certainly couldn’t fix it. John pulled the T-shirt up far enough so he and Kate could reach the bandage. It was red -but not wet - with blood. She peeled it away as quickly as she dared. John closed his eyes, but didn’t make a sound.

The wound wasn’t infected, but it didn’t look good. It looked to her as though a stitch was missing and it had bled for a little while then stopped. “Ok,” Kate said faking calm, “I know how to fix that, but I’m not sure if I can bring myself to do it. I don’t think I can stick you with a needle…..unless you were unconscious. And while the thought of dropping you with a frying pan did cross my mind, I don’t think that will help right now,” she laughed nervously.

He didn’t.

Instead he got up from the chair, took the bottle and the first aid kit with him, and went into the bathroom. The light turned on, but the door didn’t close. Kate needed to give herself space from him for a minute. The fear she had felt when they first met was nothing compared to what she was feeling for him now. So instead of following him she took the jacket and stained shirt to the mudroom. She hung up the one and put the other in a basin to soak.

The bathroom door to the mudroom was open as well so she peeked in. He was standing in front of her dressing table with his shirt off and had just finished fixing the stitches in his side. He put the needle, thread, and snips back in his shaving kit. _He carries those things with him._ _Just in case._ The thought was dizzying. But when she came closer, she realized the wisdom of what seemed to her such an irrational thing. He had a bandage Lionel hadn’t warned her about on the back of his right shoulder. And the planes of his well-muscled torso were marked with numerous scars. One on his left shoulder, below the fresh stitches. Another almost directly across from the stitches he had just repaired. Yet another old one on his right pectoral that looked particularly horrible. And so on and so on.

Kate came close enough to look at the fresh stitches. He sat down so she could see the ones on his shoulders. She removed the bandages. She knew that the wound on his left shoulder wasn’t as bad internally as the one in his abdomen, but it looked worse from the outside and had taken as many stitches to close. None of them looked infected. “Thank you, John. If you want to wash up, take your time. And I’ll put fresh bandages on when you’re done.” Kate went back out into the mudroom and closed the door behind her. She heard the water turn on in the sink and the other bathroom door close.

He still hadn’t said a word.

Kate made chicken soup for dinner. She let John know when it was ready, but he didn’t come to the table. She went on with her evening more or less as though he wasn’t there. She had to. Trying to interact with him in his current state was both painful and frustrating. 

Around eleven Kate said to him, “I’m going to bed, now. I’m a light sleeper, if you need anything, let me know.” On an impulse, Kate kissed John on the temple. “Goodnight, John.”

Her head had barely hit the pillow when she heard John get up and go into the kitchen. Casey right behind him. _Traitor Dog._ John was warming the soup she had left for him. Although she had told him to do that if he wanted to, Kate was a little hurt. _Ridiculous. You’re over thinking. This isn’t about you._ As she relaxed, she felt the tears overwhelming her. She’d kept it together for hours, and just couldn’t hold it in anymore. She let it go, but cried into the pillow so John couldn’t hear.

Finally, she fell asleep.

When Kate woke up, she half expected him to be gone. She lay there staring at the canopy, afraid to look over the railing and see the empty chair. But Casey needed to go out and she couldn’t lie here forever.

John was there. The almost full bottle of Jameson that had been in the back of the liquor cabinet was now on the table next to him, only half full. At least he was using a glass now.

The morning worked the same way as the night before. She made breakfast. He wouldn’t eat with her, but when she came out of the bathroom after her shower it was clear that he had fed himself and left the kitchen neat.

Mid-morning the phone rang. It was Lionel. Kate brought the phone with her into the main room and sat on the couch so John could hear her end of the conversation. “He’s fine, Lionel. His stitches look good and he’s well fed….Well, the scruffy beard does make him look a little like a serial killer, but I think he’s going to be just fine….” She flicked a glance at John when she said that, hoping for at least a half smirk or a raised eyebrow. But there was nothing. “You can go back to New York. John will be back when he’s better…..Ok. Drive safe.”


	12. Chapter 12

_John_

Somehow John had known that he could count on Kate. She would know what to do, what not to say. He’d gotten out of bed and into the car to get away from Finch and his useless machine. He was done. He picked a direction and started to drive. He got to Kate’s more on auto-pilot than anything else. He barely remembered the miles between New York and her. 

Last night he’d given in and fixed his stitches so she would let him be. And she had. He supposed that he was grateful, but his feelings were far removed from him right now. It was just too much of an effort to respond.

She’d named the dog after him. The alias she hadn’t believed. That was good. Lionel had claimed she named the puppy ‘Fusco‘, because he was the one that had made the drive and she was still pissed at John for leaving the way he had. Kate was great with Casey too. She had obviously trained him well, and used the commands he had devised for her. Not perfect Italian but close enough to get the job done. It had been far too easy to break in through the porch door, something he needed to remedy, and Casey had challenged John’s entry, but had backed down as soon as John had commanded, “ _Seduto_.” 

John had listened to Kate’s conversation with Fusco. He just didn’t care. Right now, he didn’t care about much of anything. She had told Lionel that John would come home when he was ready. But he wasn’t going back. Ever.

Kate was just finishing lunch when the phone rang again. She entered his field of vision, sat down on the couch again and curled her feet under her. The scent of flowers came with her – lilacs. The purple flowers from his childhood. “I’m sorry Harold, you can’t talk to him,” Kate said. John focused on her. “Well, he has to talk to me before he’s allowed to take calls.” The sarcasm was palpable, but he couldn’t tell if her irritation was with him or Finch. Maybe both. “Harold,” she took a breath, “No. …I wouldn’t do that if I were you...He’s safe. Isn’t that the most important thing?...Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me – I really do. I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for you and John, and your friends.” She was speaking calmly but he could hear the restrained anger in her voice, and it was directed at Finch. “I know you mean well...Do you and John really think you have exclusive rights to being fiercely protective of people who need your help?....I know you are worried, but I don’t think John cares about that right now. I will call Shaw, if I need help.” There was a long pause. As she listened, John could only guess what Harold was asking. John was just relieved that she was providing him cover. “Goodbye, Harold.”

She hung up the phone and looked at John. “Harold wants to send an ambulance to take you back, or in the very least send Shaw here to ‘provide medical support’.” She aped Finch’s clipped speech pattern. Kate paused and waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she said, “That won’t be happening.” She paused again she softened, “I’m taking Casey for a walk. Eat something, please. I’ll be back in about an hour.” Kate got up and headed for the mudroom. “Casey, _passaggiata_?” Casey bounded from the bed, tail wagging. John hadn’t included that in his list of commands. “ _Bravo_ , Casey, _andiamo_.” John heard the door close and got up to make some lunch.


	13. Chapter 13

_kate_

Three more days passed in much the same way. John’s wounds were healing, but there was no interaction whatsoever. He hardly left the chair and never, as far as she could tell, moved to the daybed. Sometimes he slept, but only for a little while here and there, and not restfully. His muscles would twitch as though he were fighting someone or something then he would wake, eyes wild for a moment, before he went back to staring. Her nerves were wearing thin. As much as she appeared to be living her life as though he wasn’t there - going to the store, posting to her blog, even closing the door between the rooms so she could teach the cancelled cooking lesson, it was taking an emotional toll. She had gone as far as bringing the lone box of Christmas decorations out of the storage closet and down to the living room, but she got them half unpacked and lost interest. It seemed somehow disrespectful.

That night she decided to push a little. He wasn’t here to be babied. She made chicken piccata for dinner instead of a soup or stew. She set the table and opened a bottle of wine. She set a bottle of hot sauce down near his plate, desperate to see him smile. When dinner was almost ready, Kate went into the living room and approached the chair. She patted him gently on the shoulder, carefully avoiding his injury. “Come on, it’s time to eat.” He looked up at her for a moment and she thought he was going to resist. Instead he got out of the chair and went to the table. He sat down and helped himself from the serving plates, he noted the bottle of Tabasco. She thought there was a flicker in his eyes. But no smile.

They ate without speaking. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. Melody Gardot lamented her _Worrisome Heart_ in the background. Kate had promised she would not try to make him talk so she felt no urge to fill the quiet between them. When he was finished, John put his napkin down next to his plate. Then he looked at her, nodded his thanks, and went back to his chair. She wasn’t sure if she was hurt or angry. Did he think he was the only person that had ever lost someone they loved? How long was she going to allow him to behave this way? 

Her frustration and emotional exhaustion pushed Kate to settle on angry. She got up, closed the barn door between the rooms, and turned up the music while she cleaned the kitchen - banging pot and pans and not singing along. She was washing the last wine glass, when it broke against the faucet and a ribbon of red appeared across the top of her hand from the base of her thumb almost to her wrist. “Son of a bitch!” she yelled. At herself, at the glass, at John. She threw the remainder of the glass into the sink where it shattered completely. 

John. He was already through the door and in the kitchen with her as though he had simply materialized there. How fast must he have moved when he heard the glass break? Two voices warred in her head when she saw him. One part of her thought, _Thank goodness, he’s here to help. He’ll take care of me, and I can just let him._ This voice was at complete odds with the other part of her, _He can only deal with me when I’m vulnerable?_ Before he could do anything she barked at him. “I’m fine.” She stepped out of his reach and started to cry. “I don’t need your help,” Kate fled to the bathroom and closed both the doors. She washed out the cut in the sink and bandaged the wound as best she could by herself with her clumsy left hand. She really did need his help. And she was furious about it. Kate heard him removing the broken glass from the sink. The water ran for a moment and there was quiet. 

When she managed to calm down she went out to the living room. John was back in the chair but he was leaning forward now, his elbows on his knees and his head resting on his folded hands. Kate sat on the edge of the blanket chest again. “John,” she touched his arm. “I know you were trying to help.” He sat back and looked at her. Still silent. “I promised I wouldn’t ask you to talk about it, and I won’t….But please…come back, from wherever you are. There are people here who truly care about you…..Including me.” His expression didn’t change.

Despite the fact that is was still early, all she wanted was to curl up in her bed and sleep. “I’m done, John. I can’t do this,” Kate murmured, tears threatening to spill. Tomorrow she would get out of the house. She had a full afternoon but instead of waiting, she would leave right after breakfast. Take a drive, have a long leisurely lunch with a book. Away from him. And when she got home, John would be there, or he wouldn’t. Right now, she didn’t much care which.

Kate got up and walked past him. His hand shot out and grabbed her forearm. She froze, startled more than anything, her heart stuck in her throat. She covered his hand with hers and they stayed that way for a few moments. John pulled her towards him, gently but firmly into the chair with him. The chair was oversized and there was room for her to sit with her back against the arm, legs across him, but not exactly on his lap. His grip on her arm had shifted but he hadn’t let go. If anything, he was squeezing tighter. It was actually starting to hurt. His thousand-yard stare was back but she wasn’t going to let him go that deep again. “John,” she whispered, tapping out on his knuckles, “you’re hurting me.”

He let go instantly. He looked at her; really seeing her for the first time since she had found him sitting here in the dark. “I couldn’t save her…What good is saving strangers if you can’t save the people you really care about?” His voice was hoarse from disuse and sorrow. A tear rolled down his cheek and into his beard.

Kate slid her arms around him. He tucked her head under his chin. “I’m so sorry, John,” she waited a moment and then very gently said, “How can you ask me that?” John raised his head and she looked up at him. “I was a stranger when you came to save me…I wouldn’t be here without you.” She could tell he was turning that thought over in his mind. “You can’t save the whole world, John, as much as you want to.”

“I should have been able to save Carter.” He put his head down again, “why couldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, John. I don’t think there is an answer.”

He hugged her to him, almost too tightly. “She stepped in front of me. Simmons was trying to kill me.” He seemed somehow amazed that anyone would risk themselves for him. She took one of his hands in both of hers and they stayed that way for a long time. She leaned her head against his chest, his heart beat against her ear. She felt his hold on her relax and knew he’d fallen asleep. She let herself doze. Let John rest. They slept like that until Casey came over and nudged her arm. “John,” she whispered, impulsively kissing the hand she was holding. “Are you awake?” He stirred. “I have to get up. Casey needs to go out.” Kate pulled her arm out from under John’s and looked at her hand. The bandage wasn’t tight enough, the cut was bleeding a little. “And I think I need your help with this.” Kate extricated herself from the chair as gently as she could. She left John there with his head back, eyes closed.

Kate went through the kitchen, bundled up, and took Casey outside. The cold air woke her a bit. She was relieved that John was talking. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

When she got back inside, John was waiting for her in the mudroom. He tipped his head at her to follow him into the bathroom and sat her down in the chair by the dressing table where he had neatly assembled everything he would need to properly bandage her hand. She simply acquiesced. He needed to fix things and she needed his help. There was no reason to fight it. John knelt on the floor next to her, half smiling at the bandage. “Good job.” he said as he removed the bloody gauze and awkward strips of white tape. 

_Was that sarcasm?_ “I was working one handed,” she replied.

“No kidding,” his tone suggested that her difficulty had been her own fault.

“Does it need stitches?” The thought made her stomach flip over. If she did need stitches would he try to do it himself without bothering to take her to a hospital? The world started to turn gray and there was ringing in her ears. 

“No. You’re all right.” she heard his voice from far away. “Kate, breathe deep and stay with me,” he gently tapped her cheek with his fingertips. “Kate.” She took a deep breath and the feeling subsided.

John carefully cleaned the cut and bandaged it properly with a square of gauze and a wide role of beige tape he had taken from his shaving kit. He was quiet again, focused on what he was doing, but he was there. When he was done, he said, “Good to go. Try to keep it dry.” He paused for a moment as though there was something more. For a moment she was sure he was going to lean over and kiss her and just as quickly the moment was gone. John just looked at her and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Then he stood up and went out to the living room.

She washed her face, left-handed and awkward. She felt better. Everything would be all right now, as long as he didn’t go too far inside himself again. When she came out into the main room, she saw that the chair was empty. It looked somehow alien to her without John in it. _Had he left? Now? Why would he do such a thing?_ She heard a soft noise, more than a breath but not quite a snore. She peeked around the edge of the cherry blossom screen. John was sprawled out on the daybed fast asleep, Casey was close by, curled up with his tail over his nose. The dog raised his eyes to her but not his head as though Kate was intruding. “ _Traditore_ ,” she whispered, and headed up to bed.

Despite the fact that her dog was a traitor, tomorrow would definitely be better.

The next morning John came into the kitchen while Kate was making breakfast. He was still scruffy and not very talkative, but he ate with her, thanked her, and cleared the table. He wandered around the house aimlessly for a while, then put on his jacket and called the dog. “Hold on,” Kate said, “You boys can’t go out like that. This goes on Casey,” she said, handing John a bright orange dog vest, and this goes on you.” She reached up to put an orange ski hat on John’s head. He looked in the mirror, frowned and looked at her. “It’s hunting season, and you have enough holes in you already.” John wrestled the vest onto an overexcited Casey and they went out into the cold December morning. They were outside for the better part of an hour.

Kate had abandoned her plan to leave John to his own devices today. Now that he was finally present, she felt she should stay close, at least for the morning. She had also remembered that she had promised Rose, the owner of the café where John and she had eaten lunch last spring, that she would make Russian Tea Cakes for a baby shower Rose was catering.

She had time before starting the cookies so she swept the main room and poked desultorily through the Christmas decorations again. They were odds and ends that she had picked up last season. She really needed a tree to get started. And she still felt somehow disloyal, not just to John but to Carter herself. She put the lid back on the box and shoved it aside.

Kate checked on John and Casey through the glass doors that led to the porch. They were playing fetch with a stick. She found herself irrationally annoyed because she had deliberately left Casey’s tennis ball in the basket. Despite the fact that his wounds were healing quickly, she was afraid John would somehow re-injure himself. _He’s a grown man._ She reminded herself. _Isn’t that what I told Lionel?_

When John and Casey came in, she handed John a cup of coffee, but he didn’t sit with it. He roamed the house instead. Kate settled in with her baking project, but the very atmosphere of the house became restless. Kate was so used to being alone, to setting the tone for her day, she wasn’t sure that John’s aimless wandering was better than the catatonia. He came into the kitchen and set the cup in the sink. “Toolbox?” He asked scratching his beard. At least that was more than one syllable.

“Floor of the mudroom closet, far left.”

Next thing she knew he was, as her grandfather used to say, puttering. First, he fixed the broken handle on the pantry door. Then he secured the loose tread on the bottom step of the loft stairs and got the bathtub faucet to stop leaking. The restlessness had turned to productivity and there was an easy serenity to the rest of their morning. 

At lunchtime, Kate made sandwiches and John sat at the table with her again. Still quiet, but present.

As she rolled up her sleeves and cleared away the dishes Kate told him she would be out all afternoon. “I need to deliver those cookies,” she shot a look at him as he had just put one in his mouth and had another in his hand. “Which I did not make for you. Those are for a baby shower, and I’m being paid for them.” She shooed him away, “At one, I’m teaching Jennifer Makris how to make baklava. Her new in-laws are coming for Christmas, she wants to impress. Rehearsal at the Town Hall for the Winter Concert is at three, I play piano. Then I need a couple things at the market before I come back so I’ll be pretty late…Are they good?” John had his mouth full of the second cookie. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “They’re all right.” But his eyes told he was teasing.

“You are not helping.”

He swallowed. “So, let me help. Where’s your shopping list?”

“Really?”

“I need to go out anyway.” He said, ignoring Kate’s skeptical look. “I need weather stripping for the entry door and some things to secure the sliding doors on the porch.”

“The only way that porch door will be secure enough for you is if you brick it up.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe.” He raised eyebrow and the muscle in his cheek twitched. “I need to be busy. And - I still owe you a bottle of single malt.”

“Yes, you do,” she handed him the list. “Thank you.”

Instead of taking the list John took her whole hand, brushing the underside of her forearm with his left thumb. “Did I do that?” there were very faint bruise marks on her arm in the shapes of fingerprints.

“They don’t hurt.” John held her wrist gently and avoided eye-contact. “The second I told you it hurt, you let go. I just didn’t tell you soon enough.” His touch sent glittering electricity up her arm.

“That is no excuse.”

“I have no interest in making excuses for you, John,” She said a little more harshly than she had intended. His eyes flinched but he didn’t let go.

John looked up at her, “I’m sorry.” The sincerity in his eyes was overwhelming.

“It’s ok,” Kate pulled her arm away. “Look I have to go. I’m going to be late to Jenny’s house. And I still have to box up these cookies,” she pulled the container out of the cabinet, “John if you could put these in here without eating them all-“ Kate was interrupted by the sound of the mudroom door banging shut behind John. Casey whined at being left behind. 

_And men say women are moody._

It was quarter to three when Kate left Jenny’s. The poor woman had panicked when Kate told her that she was on her own for the final stages of baklava. All she had to do was take the pastry from the oven when the timer rang and allow it to cool for a couple hours before pouring the syrup over it. Jenny insisted on acting as though boiling water, honey and spices together was a mission that required calling in the Navy Seals. Finally, Kate had measured out the syrup ingredients for her and left painstaking instructions before heading to the school.

Halfway between Jenny’s house and town Kate pulled off the road into a plow truck turnaround. She needed a few quiet minutes to herself. These few hours away from John had been a very good thing. She tried to clear her mind but instead found herself wondering what he was up to. When she’d left her house, she had seen the Audi still parked by the garage so he hadn’t gone far. Brooding, she was sure.

Sinead O’Conner breathed from the speakers, “ _Bewitched, bothered and bewildered_ _am I._.” Kate couldn’t have said it better herself. It wasn’t just sexual attraction - though there was plenty of that. Kate was sure she was a better person because of John’s appearance in her life last spring. She’d come out of her shell a bit and become a real part of the community. Better yet she had done it without having to haul around the baggage of Margaret’s life. All because a crazy man in a bulletproof vest ran over her picket fence. And now - there was no other way to put it - Kate was in love.

Love. What an unfortunate and useless word. She’d been ‘in love’ before. Of course, she had. But every time she used that word it meant something different. She loved gelato, 18 yr old Scotch, the scent of lilacs, and thunderstorms. She loved to sing, sex in the rain, and James Bond movies. She loved Casey. She had loved Hutton, and that had turned out to be a lie. She loved John – it meant everything, and it meant nothing. 

John’s reappearance in her living room the other night had only made her angry because she was afraid he would walk out again without saying goodbye. Kate was acutely aware that he would in fact leave. She wasn’t going to kid herself or try to change it. He was not the type of guy to hang around in a backwater of New England, waiting to see if the woodpile would last until spring. She didn’t believe in Forever anyway. Did she? No – she didn’t. More than ever she believed in Right Now. And Right Now – she loved John Reese. How did he feel about her? The fact that he had come to her when he wasn’t sure where to go next must mean something. His irritation with Alex that day in front of library had been a pretty clear indication that there were feelings for her even then. The electricity she had felt in the kitchen this morning had been mutual – she was sure of it. Sinead’s voice sang “ _vexed again, perplexed again, thank god I can be oversexed again_.” _Well, one can only hope,_ she thought and smiled to herself. Kate looked at the clock. No more time to think – or overthink – she was going to be late if she didn’t get going. 

She reached the town hall on time, which was good, but the rehearsal wasn’t. The kids didn’t get there and settled down until 3:30. And even then, they weren’t really settled. They shuffled their feet, missed their cues and a few of them were staring down at their music even though they were supposed to be ‘off-book’ by this late in the rehearsal schedule. The music teacher, Bobby Levin, was getting more and more frustrated by the second. Pencil thin, ginger-haired and a complete diva, he expected perfection out of high school kids, and usually he got it. But today no one was concentrating, because later that night there was a big basketball game, a division rival.

Kate was also frustrated. She looked at her watch. It was already four. Bobby would keep them another hour at least, Thank goodness John had offered to pick up her groceries. But Kate still wanted to get this rehearsal over with. “Ok.” She said, standing up. ”I hate to interrupt but everybody needs to take a break. Mr. Levin you go get a cup of coffee. Give me a full five minutes, and trust me.”

As soon as she was sure Levin was out of the room she turned to the kids and said. “All right, I know you don’t want to be here tonight. But the sooner we get this together the sooner we get out of here. So Missy and Rain, come on down and lead the choir in a cheer for the home team.

Charlie, a tall blond boy, spoke up. “Ummm, Miss Halifax, Levin will have a fit if he catches us.” 

“Well, we need to use our five minutes wisely then. Cynthia, come down to the piano and be ready to play _Christmastime is Here_ when I give you the signal.”

The kids launched into motion. Missy and Rain led a mini pep rally and Kate kept an eye on the time. The kids threw themselves into the cheer. They stomped and shouted and laughed. When they had little more than a minute left she waved her arms. “Ok, everybody got it out of your system now?” The kids smiled and shuffled around a bit. “All right then, _Christmastime is Here_. Cynthia, you ready?”

Cynthia motioned for Kate to come closer. “Who’s that guy?”

Kate looked to the back of the house. It was John, standing in the shadow of the balcony. Kate’s heart skipped a little but she kept her face passive. “Just a friend of mine.”

“He’s gorgeous.”

“He’s far too old for you…but you should see him without the beard,” they grinned at one another.

“I’m from here, Miss Halifax, the Mountain Man look works. Trust me.” Cynthia said a little suggestively.

“Eyes on the music, Cynthia,” replied Kate.


	14. Chapter 14

_john_

John stood in the back of the hall. When he walked in two girls were leading the choir in a cheer more appropriate for a football game than what had come to mind when Kate had said ‘Winter Concert’. Kate waved her arms at them to stop. “Ok, everybody got it out of your system now?” The kids smiled and shuffled around a bit. “All right then, _Christmastime is Here_. Cynthia, you ready?” There was an exchange between Kate and the girl at the piano, and Kate turned to look at him. He hadn’t meant to interrupt. He had only been curious. John was relieved when she turned back to what she was doing and ignored him.

The girl started to play, and Kate raised her hands to the now attentive teens. On her signal they began to sing. And it was beautiful. She was beautiful.

The door opened behind him and a thin man with reddish hair came in and stopped next to him. He seemed almost as amazed as John was. “They are very good.” John said quietly.

“Better than I realized,” said the man holding out his hand, “Bobby Levin, I’m the Music Director at the high school. You are?”

“A friend of Kate’s, name’s John.”

Levin looked him up and down, “Lucky Kate,” Levin noted, “She’s marvelous, isn’t she?”

Kate was giving instructions. “That was very good. Please listen to each other so you come in together on each line and do yourselves a favor and feel it. This is a list of all the things that are wonderful about the season. Enjoy it. When I sing, when I really feel the music, it gives me goosebumps. No kidding,” she admitted to the disbelieving teens, “goosebumps. I want you to do that. And gentlemen, I want to hear the bass line, please. Ladies love low voices. Give me goosebumps. The whole piece needs to be soft and delicate,” she paused. “Like a first kiss.” There were some titters, and a muffled comment. “We all know you’ve been kissed, Charlie, thank you. Ok Cynthia, all the way through, do the best you can – I’ll be playing at the performance.”

John said to Levin, “Yes, she is marvelous.”

The kids started singing again and they sounded even better. “Don’t know what I would do without her. Some people just make your day better, you know? She’s one of the good guys.”

John had spent the afternoon indulging his anger at himself for the bruises on Kate’s arm. At Levin’s words, he realized what he had to do to fix it. As the song came to an end John asked, “Can I have a second with Kate?”

“Absolutely,” Somehow the word came out sounding suggestive. Levin stepped out from under the balcony and clapped, “That was just terrific! What did Miss Halifax do to you, while I was gone!”

“She gave us really good drugs,” piped up Charlie.

“Thank you Mr. Hathaway.”

John approached the piano. “Kate, I need to borrow the truck.”

“Now?” She took the keys from the top of her purse.

“I parked the Audi near your truck, here are the keys.” His slipped them from his jacket pocket and into her hand. Her fingers lingered on his. John said, “I’ll see you at the house.” There was a flurry of gossipy chatter from the group on the stage. A wolf whistle, some oooohs and aaahs, and a “Good for you, Miss Halifax!” 

As he walked away, he heard one of the girls call out, “What, no kiss?”

John hitched his shoulders and kept walking.

John heard Kate come through the front door, over the sound of Nat King Cole singing _Oh, Tannenbaum_ , as he put the pot of water on the stove to boil. “Something smells wonderful. John, are you _cooking_?”

“Among other things.”

Kate burst into the room, barefoot and pretty, “You cooked - for me? It smells so good.” She reached for the lid of the Dutch oven simmering on the stove, “Can I peek?”

John nodded an affirmative, “How’s your hand?”

“It’s all right. A little achy. Piano playing was not easy. Hopefully, I’ll be able to take the bandage off in a day or two. Chicken Paprikash?” She breathed in the steam that rose from the pan. We may not even need hot sauce.” She beamed at him. He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow but before he could respond Kate said, “You are such a sweetheart.” She reached up, pulled him toward her and kissed his cheek. “And you shaved, and you got a haircut, and you smell good.” She kissed his cheek again. “I’m going to need a step stool if I want to do that again. I need something for the ache in my hand.” Kate vanished into the mudroom and John heard the bathroom door shut. He felt like he’d had a full conversation despite the fact that he had hardly said a thing.

A few minutes later he heard her call him from the main room. She sounded astonished. He smiled as he made his way around the kitchen table and through the arch. Kate was standing in the middle of the room staring, “This is why you needed the truck.”

John had a moment of doubt. The tree filled the corner in front of the bookcases, it was almost too large for the space and it blocked off most of the access to her cookbooks. It didn’t even have lights on it yet. Looking at it again with Kate in the room he thought the tree now looked more like something he had killed and brought home to her. “Is there a problem? I can-“

“Thank you, John.”

“I didn’t have time to decorate it.”

“No, it’s perfect.” It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t a Christmas tree until it had decorations. But she was happy, and he wasn’t going to argue with that. “We can decorate it after dinner,” she said and wrapped her arms tightly around him. “Thank you, John.” She said again. He hugged her back a little awkwardly.

“Get you a drink?” he asked, unsure of himself.

“Sounds good.”

Back in the kitchen he poured himself another two fingers of Scotch, but before he could pour some in the glass he had set out for her she stopped him. “I’m going to have wine.” She opened the wine fridge and pulled out a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. “Owing me a bottle of Scotch doesn’t mean you buy a bottle and drink it,” She wrinkled her nose at him and smiled as she got a wine glass out of the cupboard

“There are _two_ fresh bottles in the cabinet for you,” he gestured to her to hand him the wine bottle, opened it for her, and poured her a glass.

Kate was very impressed with the meal. It made him feel good to do something for her in return for letting him stay. “Where did you learn to cook like that?” she said as she pushed her plate away.

“I could tell you but- “

“Then you’d have to kill me?” she laughed.

"Something like that.”

“Your Hungarian grandmother?”

“Slovak, but yes,” He didn’t want to talk about his childhood, but wasn’t sure how to keep her from asking. As usual she seemed to know what he was thinking before he did.

“Ok, I’ll clean up if you put lights on the tree.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely, tomorrow when I cook you can clean up after me,” her smile teased.

“I’ll help.” He said. “You aren’t supposed to get your bandage wet, remember.” She filled the dishwasher and he washed the two pots. She sang along to _Let It Snow_ and danced in place as she worked. He was bothered again, as he had been so many months ago at the safe house, at the way the two of them slipped so easily into quiet domesticity.

He thought of it again later, as he handed her Christmas ornaments while she sipped hot buttered rum and flitted around the tree like a little bird. She didn’t have much in the way of decorations. To fill in the empty spaces she got out some paper and made snowflakes. John delighted Kate when he managed to remember how to fold an origami crane. She was singing and happy, her face aglow from the warmth of the room, and the tiny white Christmas lights. He had done that. He should feel good about it, but he felt cautious instead. As they finished decorating the tree, John made a decision. He wouldn’t let this go any farther.

They settled in the sitting area. He sat in what he was vaguely aware was now his chair. She poured them another drink and set her laptop on the coffee table so they could watch a Miracle on 34th Street. Kate stretched out on the couch with her blanket. She called Casey over, but the dog lay on the floor with his head on John’s feet. She rolled her eyes, and made a tsk noise, giving her attention to the movie. John was watching but he wasn’t paying attention. He was waiting.

An hour or so later, Kate had fallen asleep with her empty glass slipping from her hand. John gently took it and set it on the coffee table. He patted Casey, quietly got up and went into the bathroom. With only the night light he packed his things and set the bag in the mudroom. He was going to leave her again. And as much as he knew it was the wrong thing to do it was the only thing. Staying any longer would only make things worse. He was going to hurt her one way or the other and this way would be easier. _For you or for her._ He pushed the thought away. He stood in the kitchen with the pen and paper she used for shopping lists. He would leave her a note this time. But as he stood there gripping the pen, every sentence he could think of sounded worse than the last.

John put down the pen and went back in to the living room. The only light in the room was the dim glow from the wood stove and the twinkle of the tree lights. John stood behind the couch and looked at her. Dark eyelashes lay softly against her cheeks. Her hair spread out on the pillow. Her breath was slow and steady. She was deeply asleep, secure in the knowledge that she was safe. His heart felt squeezed. Tenderly, he pulled the blanket up over her and kissed her, almost reverently, on the forehead. “Everything will be all right,” he whispered. And he turned to go.

He reached the kitchen arch when he heard her stir. “John?” her voice was muzzy, barely audible. _Is she still asleep?_ He didn’t answer her. She took a deep sleepy breath. “John if you walk out on me again…….” His blood ran cold then. There was no explaining himself. As angry as she had been the last time… He waited. She breathed steadily. She was sleeping, he was sure of it. He took one more step into the kitchen and he heard her voice again, soft and somehow far away, though there was barely a dozen feet between him and the couch. “….there won’t be a third time.”

John just stood there in the dark.


	15. Chapter 15

_kate_

The next morning Kate was surprised to find herself on the couch. Generally, when she fell asleep like that she would wake halfway through the night and move to loft. She looked over at the daybed, but the screen was in the way. She didn’t want to wake John, but she had to get up. Her muscles were tight and uncomfortable from sleeping in an awkward position all night. She stood and stretched. Casey got up to get his breakfast. Kate dumped food in the bowl and turned around to get him some water. John was standing in the arch. He looked frazzled and tired. “’Morning, John,” she said, “did you sleep ok?”

“Fine. You?”

"Well enough, considering I slept on the couch. I’m all sore now.” She was trying to ignore the flat tone of his voice.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” John said as Casey finished his breakfast and moved to the door.

“That would have been all right.” She sighed, “If it ever happens again just wake me and send me to bed.“

“I’ll take Casey out,” John said grabbing his jacket.

_esterday was so much better_. She started coffee.

Breakfast was a mostly silent affair. John wasn’t rude, he was just distant. Not gone like before, just distracted. While she cleaned up John took Casey outside again. He was gone much longer than an hour and when he got back, he prowled around the house as he had the day before.

Kate settled herself in the kitchen. She sat at the island outlining her next blog entry and sipping tea. She had tried sitting at her desk, but John’s pacing was fraying her nerves. 

Kate couldn’t help remembering a day at the zoo when she was about six. She loved going to the zoo. The heat and humidity of the monkey house, smooth and mysterious snakes behind glass, the cheetah that seemed to her to be not much more than an oversized kitten. But that day the polar bear was what stuck in her mind. 

The bear’s enclosure was just amazing. It looked like a rocky landscape with cliffs for a background. A waterfall poured from the top of one of one of the cliffs and formed a little stream that wended its way through the habitat. At the other end of the enclosure was a deep pool where the bears could swim. The pool had a thick piece of glass through which visitors could see the bears underwater, their fur floating away from their bodies making them look fluffy and huggable. It was the highlight of any trip to the zoo. But this time, Kate couldn’t enjoy the polar bears in the pool. She was upset by the one polar bear that refused to swim. She had never noticed him before. He was the biggest and oldest of the bears and all he did while they were there, Kate and her dad and grandma; apparently all this poor bear did all day, was pace in front of the door that led back to the cages inside the simulated cliff. He would approach the door, swinging his head back and forth and making a strange lonely sound. When he reached the door, he would back down the ramp and start again. Kate had thought it funny the first few times he did it. But the more times the bear approached the door, head swaying, the more tragic it became. Kate’s dad had tried to get her to come down to the pool window but Kate was rooted to the spot, clutching her father’s hand. That poor bear was trapped. Suddenly the habitat didn’t look like the friendly environment it was meant to. It looked like a cage. And it looked to Kate like the poor bear’s heart was breaking. 

John was like this now. He paced around the house. He would sit a few minutes and get up again. Casey would perk up his ears expectantly, but John would just move to look out the window. He’d be still for maybe five minutes and start again. Finally, he stepped into the kitchen. Maybe he would tell her what the hell was wrong. Instead he stared at her a moment and turned away. Kate dropped her head in defeat. “John,” her voice was patient but very serious, “I don’t know what’s bothering you today, but you need to do something. Go shoot a woodland creature, declare war on the state of Massachusetts, or start an international incident with Canada…Please.” 

There was silence from the living room. Kate shook her head and tried to refocus. Her fingers sped over the lap top’s keys, outlining how John had made the Chicken Paprikash the night before. It had been different than any she’d had before, and she wanted to remember so she could try to recreate it. Maybe she could get him to help her write the recipe down and blog it, though she thought that what he really needed was to get out of the enclosure.

He was pacing again. She closed the lap-top. Concentrating was out of the question. She realized that she needed to get out of the enclosure as well. _Target shooting._ That was the answer. Kate had a shooting range set up at the site of the old farmhouse that was original to the property.

“Kate.” John was standing just inside the arch, gripping the back of the dining chair where he usually sat. Strange how so much of her environment had because ‘his.’ John’s face was stoic as usual, but his eyes told her a different story. The look was raw and vulnerable.

“John are you alright?”

“I…we….. there’s a problem.”

“Ok.” Kate said apprehensively, her experience with this man told her that most of John’s problems involved gunfire.

“I…” he shifted his weight, his knuckles turning white where he was gripping the back of the chair, “I didn’t mean for this to happen….and you….don’t…..” he pinched the bridge of his nose in that endearing way and she suddenly knew what he was going to say. He tipped his head back to look at the ceiling and regain his calm. He failed. John took a deep breath and looked at her again. “I feel like-” He stopped. “Last night I was going to-“ he stopped again, this time shaking his head in a vehement ‘no’. “the thing is….Kate….I think…..the way that I feel...about you...” He took a deep shuddery breath, “I think I love you, Kate.”

Insanely, unfairly, she said, “I know.” She knew before the words were out of her mouth that was the wrong this to say. But there they were hanging almost visibly in the air. John’s face crumpled. “Oh no, wait,” she said quickly crossing the distance between them. “I just meant that I figured that was why you came here when you needed somewhere to go. And John,” she touched his arm, “I’m definitely in love with you. This isn’t a ‘problem’.”

John just looked at her for a long moment as though her were trying to decide what to do next. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning towards her. The decision was made, and Kate held her breath. John gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, then pulled Kate in his arms.

The kiss was a rhapsody. His lips were soft and gentle. One of his hands found the small of her back and held her close while the other slipped under her hair to cradle her neck, his thumb brushing her cheek. He had a powerful presence even at rest but now that power, his physicality, was turned on her and it was overwhelming. Goosebumps spread up her arms and across her back. Her heart seemed to overflow and yet suffocate at the same time. She clutched the back of his shirt to anchor herself to reality, but it was just more of him - the soft strength of his lips, the safety of his arms, his fingers on her skin. Finally, she had to breathe. She pulled away from him a bit, kissing little notes down his chin and neck. His lips brushed her hair. 

She leaned her forehead against his sternum and took a deep shaky breath. She felt the muscles in John’s back and arms tense. “Kate?” his voice was uncertain.

“Well, that was worth the wait.”

“How long a wait?” his body relaxed against hers. His long fingers found the elastic at the end of her braid and dropped it to the floor. His other hand was still pressed against her back like he was afraid he would lose her.

“Roughly since you unbuttoned your shirt and showed me the hole in your bulletproof vest,” she kissed his chest through his shirt.

“I only had to take a bullet to get your attention?” He chuckled. He was running his fingers through her hair, freeing it from the braid.

“Yes well, you’ve wanted me for almost that long,” she kissed his neck again, and pressed against him.

“Since target practice. When you closed your eyes to shoot at the bottle.” John held her even closer if that were possible.

“I only had to fire a weapon to get your attention?” She laughed softly, “No, before then. When you and Alex went toe to toe. You were clear - I was with you.”

“Alex. I ran into him in New York last summer. Outside the park.”

“You ‘ran into him’?”

“With the Audi.”

Kate put her hands on John’s chest and pushed away enough to see his face. “You did not.”

“He was crossing against the light.” John shrugged innocently, “He’s fine. They let him out of the hospital the same day.” He smiled, “Harold wasn’t happy.” She couldn’t tell for sure if he was joking because when she tried, he kissed her again and she forgot what they were talking about.

John’s fingers edged up the hem of her sweater and he placed his hand exactly where it had been before, only now on her bare back. She shivered. He had said this was a problem. There was no happily ever after, and she knew it. But it was wonderful right now. And whether it lasted years or only weeks it was still worth it. He was worth it. She pressed against his hardness, “John,” she whispered.

“Mmm Hmm.” He was kissing the line of her jaw.

“How are your stitches feeling?”

“Fine.”

Kate slid her hands across his chest and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Good.” She tried moving away from him, intending to guide him toward the loft stairs, but he was an immovable object. Now that he had her, he was reluctant to let her go. The mere thought made her knees weak. Kate leaned into him and kissed his ear, “John,” his name was barely a breath. She heard him gasp. The fingers on her back twitched and he gripped a handful of her hair. Now she had his attention. “Come with me,” she took his hand and made her way through the living area. Even now, he paused at the foot of the stairs, but only for a moment.

Kate woke the next morning when John folded her into his arms. He tucked her head beneath his chin, spooning her. She felt so safe. Yesterday had been a sweet blur of exploring each other. She wanted to stay here in the bed with him and pick up where they had left off, but she couldn’t lay here forever. “I have to get up.”

“Why.” John asked, kissing her hair.

“Well, Casey needs to go out.”

“Done,” he kissed her ear.

“The wood stove needs tending.”

“Done.” He laced his fingers though hers.

“Well,” Kate murmured, testing her new limits, “I need tea.”

“Next to my coffee on the nightstand behind me. Is there anything else?” His voice was deep and gravelly in her ear and it traveled right down her spine. 

“How did you manage to do that without waking me?”

“Stealth is in my resume.”

“Is it?” _And god knew what else._ She giggled. Kate never wanted to leave this bed. She rolled over and kissed John’s chin. “I love you.” She said quietly.

John looked down at her, “I know.” He said and raised his eyebrows.

She laughed sheepishly and covered her face with her free hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“No. It was fine. Ripping a man’s heart from his chest and showing it to him is a good way to start a relationship,” he mocked.

“I will make it up to you. I promise,” She replied with an indulgent giggle.

“I like the sound of that,” John nudged her chin out of the way and grazed her throat with his lips.

“But….I would like my tea first, please.” She pushed him gently away, “while it’s still hot.” She sat up in the disarray of the bedclothes and wrapped the edge of the sheet around her breasts, her hair falling over her naked shoulders. John handed her the cup and moved up to lean against the extravagant pile of pink and white pillows. He reached for his coffee.

Kate sat there just looking at him. He was unreal, lazing in her bed, bare-chested, like some battle scarred, mythological hero. A line from Bonnie Tyler drifted through her mind. _Where’s the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds_. She traced her fingers across his skin and lingered on one of his many scars. She had outlined every one of them with fingers and lips since yesterday, but she really looked at him now, and thought about all those wounds. How many times had he been shot? How close to death had he been? She caught his eye, he had a somewhat amused expression on his face. “Something wrong?”

“No, I just worry about what might happen to you when you go.”

John’s brow furrowed, “Where am I going?”

“Back to New York. Back to saving people. Eventually, you have to go back. And sooner or later your number will be up.”

John laughed, but his face darkened “My number,” he pinched the bridge of his nose “dammit, Kate, that’s a hell of a way to put it.” He voice was hard, not angry so much as exasperated. She was aware that she had said something significant, but she wasn’t sure what it meant. John set the coffee cup down and took her hand, “I’m not going back, Kate. I’m finished with Harold and his little number game. I’m staying here with you,” his face softened, trying to lighten the mood with an innocent look, “if you’ll keep me.” 

“John,” she began, and his face hardened again. She put up her hand in a wait a minute gesture. “just listen to one thing. If you hadn’t been working with Harold I would be dead.”

“Not true. You shot Pierce.” His expression had gone flat.

“Yes. I did.” She looked him in the eye, “ But only because you gave me the gun and taught me how to use it.”

He was silent. Kate put down her teacup and leaned forward. She kissed his lips and then the spot over his heart. He didn’t answer but she could tell he was thinking about what she had just said, and she decided not to push him on the subject any further. “What do you think about breakfast?” she asked.

“I’m making you an omelet.” 

Kate smiled, “Then I guess I’ll keep you.”


	16. Chapter 16

_john_

The next few days were all about Kate. They never left the house, they barely left the bed except to find food and tend to Casey. Sex with Kate was incendiary. ‘Passionate’ was too mild a word for the way this woman responded to him. Her hands, lips, fingernails, sent hot sparks across his skin. When she whispered, breathed, gasped his name in his ear it was like a wildfire rushing through him, burning away everything that wasn’t her. And she knew it.

When had he ever felt this way before?

_That was a door to keep locked_.

Now Kate was asleep in his arms in the chair. They had been watching _A Fistful of Dollars_ at his insistence. A somewhat heated discussion of classic movies had ensued over lunch. She claimed that _Pale Rider_ was the best of Eastwood’s older films and she didn’t see any reason to watch all the old westerns when they were basically the same story. She’d seen _High Plains Drifter_ , but only really remembered the somewhat surprising ending. She was sure she’d seen parts of _Fistful of Dollars_ but it was the same tall, nameless Stranger with a scruffy beard, an attitude problem, and a gun. “Wait – that sounds like you, John," she had teased. John ended the conversation right there by setting up the laptop on the coffee table and pulling her away from the kitchen to snuggle under the blanket. 

It was a good way to spend an afternoon. Lazy snowflakes drifted down outside the glass doors, the fire crackled in the wood stove, and Kate had fallen asleep about the time the nameless Stranger dragged the Inn Keeper out to the cemetery to plant the bodies.

It seemed only fair. He had fallen asleep during her favorite movie, _An Affair to Remember_. Now that had been boring. It was about a woman who didn’t realize that it wouldn’t matter to the man she loved if she was in a wheelchair. Did she not know that it only mattered that she was alive and cared about him?

John wasn’t paying much attention to the movie now. He watched Kate sleep instead. He mused once again on the idea of staying here with her in Vermont. John needed to recover from the mess he and Harold had created. For now, at least, he was staying put. And when the day came when he had to go, Kate would understand. At least that was what she had said, yet again, that morning.

She had insisted on getting up and making a serious breakfast. “I haven’t done anything other than you in days.” She said with a wicked grin.

“Is that so bad?” he asked

“No, but we need to eat actual food, not just whatever we happen to find in the fridge.”

“I don’t,” John noted.

“But you do need to shave, Scruffy,” she ran her fingers along his jaw.

He rubbed his chin against the soft skin of her cheek, “You liked that last night.”

“Yes, I did,” Kate laughed and tried to squirm away, instead making it easier for him to rub his rough stubble against her neck, “but, I’m fickle.” She gasped and giggled and tried to push him away.

“Fickle. Are you going to wake up tomorrow and kick me out?” he grabbed her hand and moved it away so he could tickle her nipples with his beard.

She shrieked, “Of course not, you’ll leave when you’re ready.”

That had stopped him cold, “What do you mean?” 

“John…..I didn’t mean anything by it.” Kate paused and looked him in the eye, “I’m a big girl. I know this isn’t going to last forever. As much as I’d like to keep you chained to my bed as my personal….Wonderboy,” she giggled again but his face remained stoic, “You are going to get bored with me or this town or both.” 

“No, I won’t.”

“Oh John, I love that you mean that right now. And I know you mean it – right now. Just do me one favor ok?”

“Hmm?” he frowned. 

“When it is time to go – don’t walk out on me this time. Just promise me you’ll say goodbye.”

“Kate, I-“ He wanted to argue his case. Promise that he wouldn’t leave.

“Please. Just promise me.”

“I promise. ….and, Kate. I love you.’

“I know,” she grinned wickedly.

Now she lay here soft and safe in his arms, her ear against his chest. Against his heart. He wondered if he could do it. Settle down. He looked out the window and imagined them in the summertime watching from the porch swing as a thunderstorm rolled by. Taking Casey for walks through the riot of autumn colors. He could find something to do. Something normal.

He had intended to marry Jessica. He had declined his last enlistment to be with her when the 911 attack had forced the military to stop gap and his separation from the army had been unceremoniously cancelled. He’d been ready – then. So many things had happened since that day. He had been hurt, and had hurt others. He’d done things he couldn’t always reconcile with himself, never mind explain to Kate. Not that she ever asked for explanations. She gave him all the space he needed, and all she ever asked of him was that he wouldn’t walk out in the middle of the night. Only an idiot would leave a woman like this behind.

The next morning, John silently approached the kitchen and leaned against the archway. He watched Kate cutting vegetables at the counter. Casey was standing by, as he always did when Kate was in the kitchen. It was still early, and Kate had just finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

She looked beautiful in the long skirt - blood red today - and sweater – black - that was her uniform as much as the suit had been for him. Kate was singing along to the sound system as usual.

_In time the Rockies may crumble,_

_Gibraltar may tumble,_

_They’re only made of clay._

_Our love is here to stay._

She tossed a chunk of carrot at the dog, which he snapped out of the air, tail wagging. “Why are you feeding vegetables to the dog?” He had started to say ‘my dog’ and didn’t.

She didn’t even startle, “Because I’m fresh out of cats?” she laughed. “He likes it. Don’t you, Casey. _Bravo_.”

“He’s supposed to be an attack dog.”

“I have you for that.”

“Really.” John rounded the table and came up behind her. He moved her braid aside and ran his fingertips along her neck. “Is that all I am to you?”

“That’s all,” she was trying to sound flippant but her voice was a little breathy. John leaned over to kiss her neck, his lips felt her heart quicken at the pulse point. “John,” there was that gasp that made him crazy, “I’ll be with you in just a second, I just-“

The phone rang. Kate reached for it but was too far away. She leaned for it and John scooped his arm around her waist, under her sweater, to stop her. “Let it ring.”

Kate lunged for the phone and picked it up. She struggled to keep her voice steady. “Hello……Hi, Lionel. John is….busy right now… As a matter of fact he _is_ feeling better. One of us will call you back-….ok.” Kate patted John’s arm away. “John. Stop. Here. Lionel needs to talk to you.” He didn’t like the tone of her voice, so he took the phone.

“What do you want, Fusco.”

“Hey, I hate to interrupt. I mean I get it. You’re tall, she’s beautiful. I can do the math, but what I’m wondering is when you’re planning on coming home.”

“Home?...What home, Lionel?”

“You know, I mean you’ve never actually invited me over, but home. Meaning our friends and that thing we were doing.”

“What is it we were doing again?”

“Helping people. Keeping them safe so they could get home to their loved ones.” John made his way out of the kitchen. He didn’t want this, any of it, near Kate. The Machine had only made things worse in the long run.

“No offense, Lionel, I know the whole good guy thing is new to you but you’re not fooling anyone. And neither were we. We weren’t helping people. We were delaying the inevitable.”

“None of us said we were going to win. But it doesn’t mean you stop fighting.”

“No,” John scoffed, “I’ve learned my lesson. It’s entropy, Lionel. Decay. We save someone, they’ll still lose, just tomorrow, not today. I know that now. Same as I know that you’ll probably go back to being a corrupt piece of garbage. Water finds its level.” He was being unnecessarily cruel, but he wanted them to leave him alone.

“You know what?” Lionel was angry now, not that John cared much, “Carter was the best of us. Better than me, and a damn site better than you. And she got killed. Where I come from, that doesn’t mean you just give up. To hell with you, John. Do whatever you want, I’ll tell Finch I tried.”

“Tell Finch - Thanks for the job.”

“I haven’t heard from Glasses since last night. That’s not like him. He probably needs our help. But there’s no point, right? We’d just be delaying the inevitable.” 

John brought the phone back into the kitchen and hung it up a little roughly. He moved behind Kate again and wrapped her in his arms, but he let her keep doing what she was doing. “So what did Lionel have to say? He seemed upset.”

“I don’t want to talk about Lionel, right now.”

She waited. John took the knife from Kate’s hand and turned her around to face him. Gently he touched her face drawing her features with the tips of his fingers. Like he was memorizing her. “I meant it when I said I love you.”

“I know that. I love you too.”

He kissed her slowly and sweetly. Then he led her up to the loft. He was different this time and it didn’t take Kate long to realize he was telling her goodbye. Whatever Lionel had said to him, he was leaving. Later, she laid her head on his chest, her ear against his heartbeat. “You have to go.”

“Finch is in trouble.”

“You have to go now.”

“I do,” John got up, pulled on his jeans and started collecting previously discarded clothes.

“Not that one.” Kate said taking the black Henley from him. “Can I keep it?”

“Sure,” he looked puzzled.

“It….smells like you.” Kate said, slightly embarrassed.

John gave her a broken smile. He turned away and she was sure that he had bunched her favorite pink camisole in with the other clothes he’d picked up off the floor before heading to the bathroom to pack. _Doesn’t matter,_ she thought. _He tore it when he took it off me last night._ Kate folded the Henley and stuck it under her pillow. She dressed and followed him downstairs. He set his bag in the mudroom. “Here,“ he said going to the refrigerator. He wrote a number down on the shopping pad. “If you have an emergency, call me. I’ll be honest with you Kate I don’t know how long that will be a good number. I go through phones pretty quickly. I want you to keep Lionel’s number in your purse and post it here on the fridge. Write ICE next to it so law enforcement will know that is your ‘in case of emergency’ number.”

John put on his jacket, “If anything happens to me,” Kate shook her head, but John ignored it, “Lionel will call you.”

Kate put on a jacket, stepped into a pair of boots, and followed John out on the stoop. She couldn’t even try to talk. For now, she refused to cry. This was hard enough without that. She had known he would leave, she had just thought they’d have weeks, maybe even months – not just days. He held her for a minute, her arms inside his jacket. She could feel his muscles under his shirt, tense as wires. John cupped her neck in his hand and kissed her. She kissed him back almost frantically.

He was really going. John picked up his duffle and walked down the drive to the Audi. She stood there. She wasn’t going back into the house until he was really gone.

John pulled the car up to the door and stopped. He sat there like he was trying to make himself go. He covered his face with his hand for a moment and got out of the still running car. As he crossed the yard, he reached into the pocket of his jeans. John curled her fingers around a flash drive. “I made this for you yesterday. It was supposed to be a joke.” He faltered and looked away, “It’s not as funny as it was then….But I need you to know,” he met her eyes again. “I meant everything I said to you.”

“You aren’t coming back are you?”

“I’m sorry, Kate.”

She threw her arms around him. She was having trouble breathing without crying now. “Please, be careful.”

He kissed her gently and got back in the car. She stood there, refusing to turn her back or close the door on him until he’d pulled away.

And then, just as abruptky as he had entered her life - he was gone.

The second the Audi rounded the bend in the road, the moment it slipped out of sight through the leafless trees, Kate broke down. Sobbing and shaking she went back into the house and wandered around aimlessly. She was utterly lost. Her arms felt so empty. She had only been By Herself before, now she felt Alone. Her breath hitched. Kate tried taking long breaths, but she couldn’t get it under control. She wanted the safety and shelter of John’s arms. She needed his eyes on her, his touch, the weight of him. She picked up the phone. She could call him. Get him back. If she could just calm down enough so she wasn’t blackmailing him with her tears. Kate leaned against the archway and started to dial the number. She couldn’t do it. She slid down the archway until she was sitting on the floor. It wouldn’t be fair – to either of them. She began to sob again. Casey came over and lay down next to her with his head in her lap. She leaned over and put her teary face against the dog’s fur.

Kate stayed that way for a long time. Her crying slowly subsided, but the empty feeling in her heart was still there. She didn’t know what to do with herself. In just a week John had become the anchor of her days, and now she was adrift. Her head ached and her eyes felt dry, grainy. Kate opened her hand. The flash drive had made marks in her palm where she had gripped it so tightly. _Wallowing in self pity isn’t any better on me than it was on him._ Patting Casey to make him move, Kate struggled to her feet. She still clutched the flash drive, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was on it.

Kate went to the desk and opened her laptop. She clicked the drive into the port, but just sat there staring at the ‘open files’ prompt. She stood up and backed away from the desk, stalling. Kate ran up the stairs and took John’s pillow off the bed. Embracing it, she took a deep breath. The scent of his skin made her knees weak. She carried the pillow back down to the desk, sat down, and clicked the prompt.

It was music. Her eyes raked the list and it took her a second to understand. Twenty songs or so, all sappy, sexy, cheesy rock love ballads. Most of them from the 80’s. Although Nazareth’s _Love Hurts_ and Ozzy’s _Mama I’m Comin Home_ were outliers. There was Great White’s _Save your Love_ , and _Love Bites_ by Def Leppard. She wondered a little at his sanity when she saw Whitesnake’s _Is It Love?_ Blinking back tears a bit she took a breath and tried to just read the list in order. The first song was _Still Lovin’ You_ by the Scorpions, and she started to laugh through the tears. The son of a bitch had made her a mix tape. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and clicked ‘play all’. Swaying softly in the middle of the room, clutching the John-scented pillow, she imagined his arms around her.

_Time_

_It needs time_

_To win back your love again_

_I will be there_

_I will be there_

_I’m Still Lovin' You_


End file.
